Up To Scratch
by Vican
Summary: Mischievous alarm clocks, inappropriate Christmas gifts and slippery ice - Bella's day just keeps going from bad to worse. While thoroughly pissed off at the world, she finds her salvation in the unlikeliest of places
1. The drugstore

**Summary: Originally an o/s for the FML-Contest: Mischievous alarm clocks, inappropriate Christmas gifts and slippery ice - Bella's day just keeps going from bad to worse. While thoroughly pissed off at the world, she finds her salvation in the unlikeliest of places.**

For this contest, you received a prompt in the form of a "FML" - I've chosen to leave mine here at the beginning, so you can see what inspired this whole shindig.

* * *

_Today, I received an early Christmas gift from my boyfriend of ten months. It was soap. In a few days he will be receiving his very expensive specialized car horn he has wanted for years, while I will be enjoying my new bar of Walmart brand soap, which has already begun to give me a rash. FML_

* * *

BPOV

_This day can suck Hitler's balls_.

"And his dick," I add, deciding that having only his balls in its mouth would be too generous.

I glare out the windshield of my car, feeling just generally pissed off at everything, like the street light 20 feet up the road and that particular shade of neon blue in the lower right corner of the billboard I just passed.

I squirm against my seat for the gazillionth fucking time. How could nothing help with this shit?

As all fucking hellish days usually do, the whole mess started with my alarm clock; it decided it didn't like me any more and that going off 30 minutes after I had set it would be really funny.

Since when do alarm clocks have minds of their own anyway?

Because I am slightly weird and hellishly slow in the morning, I need at least half an hour to get through a bowl of Cheerios. This morning I had about 5 minutes. That was Sucky Thing number two.

Sucky Thing number three turned out to be when Alec decided to join me in the shower.

"Hey babe…" he'd drawled lazily as he barged into the bathroom, letting the hot steam out and the freezing air from the apartment in.

"Fuck, close the door!"

"Oops, sorry," Alec had cheerfully – fucking _cheerfully_ – replied, pulling the door shut with the annoyingly loud squeak he never got around to fixing. He'd started undressing and I inwardly snapped at him to leave me alon_e._

"So, babe, I know it's not Christmas just yet, but…" he said in what I was sure he meant to be a suspenseful tone of voice as he'd hopped into the shower. I turned to him with a sigh while I continued rubbing conditioner into my scalp.

"Tadaa!" he had exclaimed proudly, holding up a… bar of soap.

Like, Walmart soap. Store brand.

I believe I blinked a few times.

"Merry Christmas!" he beamed, holding the bar of Walmart soap out… to me.

Surely I must have blinked some more.

_Merry Christmas_? He had to be joking. But no, Alec didn't do jokes; like, ever. Seriously. Not even of the 'Knock, knock'-variety.

He's weird.

He'd looked at me expectantly, nudging me with the suspiciously green excuse of a Christmas gift.

"Uhm… thanks?"

"I just figured that since you were taking a shower, you might need this a little early."

Was he serious? Or was he genuinely worried that I didn't already have soap?

I'd gingerly pinched the thing between my fingers, staring at it. Then I glanced up at Alec, giving him my best attempt at a smile.

I'm pretty sure it came out wonky.

He made me use it. All over my body.

It didn't even smell nice. I was starting to think that buying that specialized car horn he had wanted for years might have been a bit of an overkill, seeing as he thought buying your girlfriend of 10 months a $3 bar of soap was perfectly acceptable.

Was it acceptable? No… it couldn't be. No.

I mean, he's a smart guy; he's studying sensory neuroscience and doing experiments and complicated math equations and stuff that makes my brain hurt. Surely he has to fucking understand that a suspiciously green Walmart bar of soap is not an acceptable gift to your girlfriend of 10 months. Unless you're like 11, but how many 11 year olds have relationships that last more than a week anyway?

The really fucked up thing was that we had decided on only buying _one_ thing for each other; not the multiple-tiny-little-presents-that-end-up-making-a -really-awesome-package kind of crap that made the other one feel insufficient. One gift per person.

That soap was it.

While the soap-incident seemed relatively harmless at the time, it soon turned out to be the suckiest thing that happened to me today.

Sucky Thing number four involved only finding three mismatched clean socks in the entire apartment.

Sucky Thing number five was slipping on ice and crashing into my parked car as I attempted to drive to school.

Sucky Thing number six was being late for my first class, which then coincided with Sucky Thing number seven and eight, involving a doorstep, my clumsy feet, my bag full of crap spilling across the floor, and the TA handing me my emergency tampon.

When I left my shift at the restaurant a while ago, I was already up to an impressive Sucky Thing number 29, which was just thoroughly pissing me off.

This is where the soap-incident comes in.

Apparently my skin didn't like me cheap Walmart store brand soap. The fucking thing gave me a rash, and I've spent all day scratching myself like a dog.

It looks gross too, and I thank god that I didn't use it on my face. I work as a waitress for fuck's sake – how many people want to order food from someone whose skin looks like it just might fall off and land in their bowl of butternut squash ravioli?

All I want to do now is go home and swim around in milk or yoghurt. That's supposed to help, right? Why else would there be milk and yoghurt in lotions and crap?

Oh, wait. Lotion.

I want to slap myself for not thinking about that sooner_. _

"Dumbass," I mutter, shaking my head. I know I have one old bottle of lotion at home. It smells nice but I doubt it'd help me with my problem. I need something stronger, and preferably recommended by a health care professional.

I squirm uselessly against my seat again, feeling my skin crawl and prickle. I decide that Alec really hasn't deserved that specialized car horn.

"Why did I even buy the fucking thing?" I demand of my steering wheel. "And why do I keep talking to myself like this? Shut up, you idiot."

I violently scratch my thigh through my jeans at a stoplight.

It does nothing except cause me pain and then my arm is itchy, and then my stomach, and then my back and my ass and my left calf and then my thigh again and oh my god, _everything _is itchy!

I shriek in furious frustration and anger as I scratch and scratch and scratch, bouncing in my seat and feeling like I really just want to kick something. I can feel the burn of rage-induced tears forming. I can't fucking take this crap anymore! It feels like every inch of me is covered in mosquito bites, only worse and more annoying. Maybe I should go see a doctor about this bag of fuckery?

And then shove the bar of soap so far up Alec's ass that his damn esophagus will itch until the day he dies.

In the middle of fantasizing about this, I spot a drugstore coming up quickly on my right. I make a snap decision and turn into the almost empty parking lot.

I drive my car as far away as I can from the possibly deranged lady having a conversation with a head of cabbage at one end of the lot.

I enter the brightly lit store, basically devoid of people. I guess it would be at 11 pm on a Tuesday. Only weird people like myself come in to buy lotion of all things at this time of night.

There is a very fine specimen of a wanna-be vamp-girl sitting behind the counter, popping blue chewing gum relentlessly as she flicks through what is either _The Aspiring Vampire's Must Have Handbook_ or Star Magazine.

Or maybe she isn't a wanna-be vampire; her face is full of silver piercings and she has at least three crucifixes around her neck.

Or is the silver thing werewolves? I think it is. So maybe she's just goth or emo, or… something.

The precise spot on my back that I _cannot_ reach on my own – believe me, I have tried – starts itching like hell. It's so bad I barely manage to prevent myself from dropping to the floor. The carpet looks very uninviting and scratchy, which suits my needs very well.

I quickly move away, rubbing my arm manically through my shirt. I barely see the wanna-be vamp/goth/emo-girl look up as I pass, and I refuse to imagine what she must be thinking about me.

Talks To Cabbage Heads Lady probably looks saner than I do at the moment.

As I walk through the store, I can't see a single other soul – does wanna-be vamp/goth/emo-girl have a soul? Maybe she's sold it to the devil for an iPod or something – and I'm mildly grateful that I can scratch myself without anyone seeing.

After whirring around the store for a while I finally locate the shelves of lotions. There are a lot.

While constantly scratching some part of myself I peruse the shelves meticulously, feeling more and more overwhelmed with every label I read.

Super sensitive, moisturizing, softening, fast absorbing, hypoallergenic, refreshing, Vitamin E enriched, shea nuts, jojoba oil, dermatology recommended, goat milk, fragrance-free…

Holy shit.

If I could get all of them in one huge bottle, I'm pretty sure I'd be all set. As it is, I have no idea what my needs are – I've never had a rash before, how the hell should I know what to use?

Just then the Unreachable Spot on my back starts itching like fucking mad again. I wriggle and twist back and forth, vainly trying to generate some friction with my useless shirt. It does fuck-all.

I kick the low shelf in front of me.

I'm going to fucking kill Alec when I come home. And possibly try to return the car horn – no way does he deserve something that nice when his 'gift' has done nothing but make an already sucky day suck more than I even thought possible.

A shriek leaves me when the itchy spot on my back just won't ease up and I look around frantically, searching for something to aid me in my quest of scratching my back. I flounder when I can basically find nothing.

I'm sure a more resourceful person would be able to craft some sort of scratching device from the products all around me, but not only am I not resourceful at all, I'm also slightly apprehensive about using store products to scratch my blotchy, disgusting rash. What if I have to pay for it? There are cameras all over this place; they'd barge down the aisle, pointing an accusatory finger at me and demand that I purchase the pump bottle of "Udder Cream" in my petrified hands.

I have no idea who 'they' are – The Man? Wanna-be Vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless-girl? Either way, they are out to get me, I'm sure of it.

In the end, I resort to turning around and rubbing my back up and down the ledge of a shelf.

"Oh my _god_…"

I let my head fall back in pleasure as I continue to grind against the shelf, scratching my stomach and upper right thigh at the same time. Jesus fuck, it feels amazing.

"Uh…"

I shriek as a distinctly male voice announces its presence. I jump away from the shelf with my heart hammering its tiny fists against my ribs.

I stare in horror at the guy standing in front of me, a slightly dumbstruck look on his face.

Oh, no, no, no, please god, no.

Why can't holes just open up in the ground and swallow you whole? It would be so convenient.

I can practically see the heat-waves coming off my face as I blush. Just when I thought my day couldn't possibly get any worse.

I slowly die inside as the guy continues to gape at me with his hands in mid-air, palms facing me. I almost crumble to the floor when I notice that he's wearing a name-tag. He works here.

Oh sweet baby jesus, just kill me.

Edward, as his name-tag informs me, slowly takes a step closer.

My mortification just about doubles, which is impressive seeing as how that amount of embarrassment would surely kill you, when I fully realize that the cautiously approaching Edward is the most beautiful guy I have ever seen, in a slightly nerdy, geeky but still cool kind of way

He looks about my age, tall and broad-shouldered, with a head full of the kind of hair that no possible hair product in the world could tame.

His eyes are green, and his skin is pale and his jaw… holy shit, his jaw. I have never seen such a magnificent jaw in my life.

I want to whimper at the sight of that jaw.

Then he parts his lips to speak, and I almost miss every word because I'm too busy staring at his mouth.

Jesus… is this guy for real?

"Bella, what are you doing?"

Wait, what?

"How— how do you know my name?"

I'm fairly positive that I have never seen this guy before in my life; surely I would remember seeing someone so gorgeous?

My stomach drops in horror as I contemplate the possibility that I _have_ in fact met this guy before, and I am now embarrassing myself even more by telling him I have forgotten him completely. I pray this isn't the case. I really_, really_ need that to not be the case right now.

However, judging by the way Edward freezes at my question, how his eyes slowly but surely turn wide and horrified and how his pale face loses even more of its color, I'm pretty sure _I'm_ not the one who should be embarrassed here.

This is further reinforced when a blush creeps up from the collar of his shirt, moving across that exquisite jaw and finally blossoming in his cheeks.

"I— I don't— What?"

He swallows nervously as his eyes flicker back and forth between me and the bottles of lotion all around us.

"You called me Bella – how do you know that?"

Oh my god, what if he's a creepy, amazingly hot stalker who takes pictures of me and uses them as wallpaper in his bedroom, and lies in his bed staring manically at them while talking to himself?

Wow, that should really freak me out more. I become worried about my own mental health when the idea of Edward stalking me actually doesn't sound so bad.

"I didn't— uh. Yo-you, eh…" Edward stammers, flailing his hands around a little before abruptly jamming one into his hair and pulling on it. He looks genuinely freaked out as he stares at me.

I rub my arm frantically as I wait for him to speak. After a few seconds, he lets out a huge sigh. His chin drops down to his chest and his arms fall by his sides in a clear sign of resignation.

He raises his head just enough to look at me again.

"Look, I'm not like some crazy stalker or anything, I swear. We haven't actually, uhm… officially met, but I— I've seen you around campus, and—"

He stops as he takes in my widening eyes. Yeah, telling me we've never actually met but that he still knows my name and has seen me around really isn't helping him in his 'I'm not a stalker, I swear'-thing.

"N-no, not like that! I mean, yes, I have seen you around campus, but not like I was _following_ you, or something! I wouldn't do that, I promise. It's just that I've heard a lot about you."

Uh…

Edward once again looks horrified, and he groans and rubs his face.

"Fuck, I really can't get this right, can I? _Alice_ has been talking about you a lot and she showed us some pictures of you two once, so tha-that's how I recognized you. Uhm… fuck, I'm sorry – you must think I'm completely insane."

Meh, just a little.

Then I focus on the more important issue here.

"Wait, you know Alice?" I find this suspicious and add it to my slowly growing pile of evidence that Edward actually _is_ a stalker, no matter what he says. I find it hard to believe that my roommate and best friend would know someone like Edward and never once mention him to me. She tells me when there's a new employee at the Starbucks closest to our apartment for fuck's sake.

"Well, she's dating my roommate. Jasper?"

Oh thank god. I honestly don't want to think that Edward is a creepy stalker, and if he really is Jasper's roommate – who I have heard of once or twice, but never by name – it would make this whole situation easier.

I nod and smile, making Edward slump a little in relief.

"So yeah, that's how I know your name – we just haven't had the opportunity to meet yet." He smiles back, and fuck if he doesn't look impossibly more attractive with a grin on his face.

"Oh, right. Well… whew!" I laugh ridiculously, pretending to wipe at my brow.

Jesus, you're an idiot, Swan.

But Edward laughs with me, and I suddenly don't think I'm such an idiot any more. I have never heard such a wonderful laugh in my life.

"So…" he trails off, looking down at my arm which I am still manically scratching through my sleeve.

I blush with embarrassment as I remember how he found me rubbing up against the shelf.

I tend to say stupid, nonsensical things when I'm embarrassed.

"Suspiciously green early Christmas gifts do not agree with me."

Yeah… stuff like that.

Edward's smile slowly transforms into a confused frown and I feel a strong urge to bang my head against the closest solid object I can find.

Like Edward's chest.

I sigh and prepare to speak like a normal person.

"I got a rash from the Walmart bar of soap my boyfriend gave me."

At which point I remember I have a boyfriend.

Well, crap.

I briefly wonder if this is maybe says something about my feelings for Alec. I'm pretty sure madly-in-love people don't completely forget their boyfriends for a good minute or two while drooling over someone else.

"Your boyfriend gave you a bar of Walmart soap for Christmas? Fuck, how long have you been dating this guy, two weeks?"

See? I knew it wasn't an acceptable gift!

Edward laughs at the apparently ridiculous idea.

I fidget with my hair as I look down at my feet and mumble, "No, 10 months." I then sigh as I realize how stupid it sounds when I say it out loud.

I mean, really Alec? A bar of soap? After 10 months, a fucking _bar of soap_ is the best you can do?

"What? 10 months?" he says incredulously. He looks away and frowns at nothing for a few seconds before turning back to me, adding "Sorry, but that's just really… douchey."

I laugh loudly and nod in agreement, reaching behind me to scratch my lower back viciously.

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly the kind of thing I had been expecting from him."

Edward purses his lips while he watches me shamelessly attack my own skin. I give him an apologetic smile.

He smiles back and then randomly sort of starts, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Uh, sorry – do you need any help? That's why I came down here…" He glances behind him towards the register and wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless-girl. "I'm really bored, seriously."

"Not many customers this time of night, huh?"

"Actually, it's been unusually slow. There are always a few weirdoes that come in right about n—" He abruptly stops and looks up at me with a frantic expression. "N-not that I think _you're_ weird, I— I just, you know. Uhm, fuck. I wasn't calling you weird."

"I didn't think you were," I laugh.

He exhales in relief before displaying a crocked grin that literally makes my knees buckle just a tiny bit. Holy shit, how is that even possible?

"Yeah, uhm… as I was saying, I usually have to deal with a few strange customers, but you're the first person I've seen here except Crazy Lady." He motions towards the door this time. "You know who I'm talking about?"

"Talks To Cabbage Heads Lady," I confirm with a nod.

Edward smiles at me again.

"Exactly. So, since my choices were either stare into empty space some more, or go help the one customer we had…" He trails off, sweeping his arm around as if to point out which option he has chosen. I thought that was fairly obvious, but maybe not.

I wave my hand at the shelf. "I'm sorry you had to see me shamelessly grind against this fine piece of construction, but this rash is really fucking killing me."

Edward chuckles again and nods. "Yeah, I kinda figured as much. I'm guessing you're looking for some kind of lotion?"

I nod, turning to look at the multitude of bottles. "Yep. I just don't know which one would work best."

I scratch my thigh, and look up to see that he's staring at me.

He looks a little speechless.

Is he checking me out?

He catches my eye and immediately turns to look at the lotions. His ears may have turned a little red.

"So, uh… what kind of rash are we talking about here? Is your skin just really dry, or…?" he asks, as if trying to distract me from the fact that he was totally checking me out. He reaches for a bottle and wiggles it in front of my face. "This one is supposed to be like, super-moisturizing and good for irritated skin. Does that sound like what you need?"

"Uh… I don't know."

"Show me."

I wrinkle my nose and glance up at him. "It's gross."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

I push my sleeve up. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Edward hums and leans closer. "You're right, that's totally gross."

He extends his hand and pokes me, and then drags his finger along my skin for a second.

It feels like paradise, chocolate, rainbows and puppies, all rolled into one.

"That must have been one hell of a soap. Are you allergic to something?"

"Not that I know of."

"Huh. Well, I would strongly suggest you never use it again."

"Yeah, I'll only be using that thing as a weapon from now on."

Edward looks amused. "Do you have a particular victim in mind?"

"Yeah, Alec's definitely going to get some soap thrown at his head when I get home."

Edward's smile falters just a little.

"He deserves it," he agrees. "I really am sorry, but your boyfriend is a douche for giving you a fucking bar of soap after 10 months."

"I'm thinking of returning my gift to him and then buying like a loofah or something."

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea."

I motion to the bottle in his hand. "So, you think that'll work?"

"Let's try it, shall we?" Edward asks, reaching for the test-bottle of the same brand. He puts a blob on my arm and rubs it in.

"How does that feel?"

"Uhm… it feels good."

It actually feels really fucking fantastic, both the lotion and Edward's hands on me, but I'm not about to tell him that.

"Well, as you can see it absorbs really quickly, which either means that the lotion is just really good or that your skin is essentially dying of thirst."

"So basically my skin has been lost in the desert, and this lotion is an oasis."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Oh. Well, that was easy. I'll just buy this one."

Edward drops my arm, and I feel more than a little confused and guilty at how sad that makes me.

"Good choice," he chuckles, jamming a hand through his hair and making it even messier.

I lean around him to grab a bottle from the shelf.

He blinks down at me where my head is so close to his chest, a slightly dumbstruck look on his face, before an smile takes over. He takes a small step back.

I can't help but smile back. Like, I have to smile back – it's compulsory and automatic, because the way his face looks when he grins is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

We stand there smiling at each other before the incessant need to scratch myself becomes too much. Edward looks on, apparently highly fucking amused, as I attempt to reach that goddamn spot on my back that I will never ever, no matter how long I live, be able to reach on my own.

I glare at him.

"Need some help?" He flutters his fingers at me vaguely, raising an eyebrow in question.

I contemplate his long, amazingly sexy fingers for a few seconds. With a sigh, I drop my arms to my sides and nod pathetically.

Edward's Cheshire cat grin makes me raise my a finger of my own. I point it at him sternly.

"No funny business."

I'm only being half-serious.

Edward holds up both his hands, palms facing me.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he assures me with a smile, but I don't miss how his eyes follow the lines of my waist, over my chest and along my shoulder as I turn.

I reach up to move my hair out of the way, but Edward beats me to it. His fingers sweep slowly over my neck as he gathers up the strands, gently pushing them over my right shoulder.

The paradise-chocolate-rainbows-and-puppies-sensation leaves a tingling trail after his fingers; I can feel its path arching over my neck, long after his fingertips leave my skin.

"Where does it itch?" he asks me, not yet touching me.

"Everywhere," I whine, rolling my shoulders in frustration.

"Ah, ok… I'll— I'll just… uhm."

He flounders a little before his fingers are suddenly descending upon me like a gift from heaven. His long, amazingly sexy fingers manage to accomplish in just a few seconds of scratching what I have been trying to do all day.

"Oh my _go-od_."

I emit a deep, long groan as I arch my back for him, his fingers moving up and down, side to side, in circles and in waves.

"How's that?"

"Oh fuck. To the left… yes,_ yes._ Oh jesus, harder. Up, up… oh, right there, _yes_! And down. Down. Harder. Shit, to the right, too. Yes, yes, _yes_! Oh fuck, don't stop, don't stop – right there, yes."

And then I moan incoherently for a very long time, because _Oh. My. God_.

"Jesus fuck…"

That was Edward, not me.

And it occurs to me that my sounds-like-sex-noises-but-aren't-really-sex-noise s might be slightly inappropriate.

Leaning forward and bracing myself against a shelf, I bow my spine up and towards him. My head lolls forward and hangs between my arms.

"Oh god, Edward, you have no idea how fucking amazing that feels."

"I think I do a little."

Here is what I would call the pivotal moment.

I bow my back even more, pushing my hips out towards Edward, and I accidentally brush against something I really shouldn't brush against on a stranger.

We both freeze.

He stops scratching me, and the world is still for the length of seven labored heartbeats.

He then pulls away with a gasp, or a groan, or something in between the two sounds, removing his hands and his body from me.

"Shit. Uh, right. How— how's that? Better?" His voice cracks and turns into an adorable squeak. He clears his throat in a very manly way as I straighten out and turn to look at him.

"Yep. Much better."

Edward swallows as he looks at me, eyes wide and a little nervous, as if I might remind him he has a boner right now.

"Thanks," I say instead. "For the help with the lotion and the… scratching." Which was a little awkward there at the end, not gonna lie, but still pretty darn great.

"No problem."

We stand in silence for a moment. I'm reading the back of the lotion bottle when I hear him sigh.

"Ready to pay?" He points towards the cash register, which makes me sad because even though it's awkward, Edward is also very, very cute, and I kind of want to stay here.

"Yep. Sure."

Edward follows me up to where wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless girl is sitting; she looks up with a questionable eyebrow, her glance bouncing back and forth between us.

They settle on Edward, and her eyebrow rises even higher.

I notice the TV behind her, showing different aisles from the store.

Well, shit.

He walks around the counter, apparently oblivious to wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless girl's meaningful look, and makes a shooing gesture with his hand.

"I can take this," he tells her kindly, giving her a small smile before turning back to me. I feel stupidly pleased that his smile widens when he looks at me.

Wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless girl wonders off slowly, turning back every few steps to look at us until she disappears around a corner. Edward chooses not to comment on it, so neither do I.

I throw a pack of gum in with my purchase. He tells me their his favorites, and I decide we're pretty much soulmates.

"Well, I'll see you around," I say after paying, taking the bag he hands me. "Maybe you and Jasper could come over to our place sometime? Have some dinner?"

Edward's grin is both relieved and thrilled. "Yeah, that'd be cool. See you around, Bella. Hope the rash goes away."

I giggle and nod, adding a soft "Bye," before I turn and leave the store, waving happily before he disappears out of sight.

I barely even notice Talks To Cabbage Heads Lady as I make my way over to my car. I am way to blissed out to notice such things.

In my mind, I make a list of what I am going to do when I get home.

First, I am going to spread this lotion all over me.

Then I'm going to throw that stupid fucking soap at Alec's head so hard it breaks.

~»«~

"You're sure he's coming? I mean, you're not just fucking with me, right?"

"I'm not 'fucking with you' – Edward is coming tonight, trust me."

Alice sounds confident and strong in her reassurance, which is impressive seeing as how it's the 11th time she has said those exact words in the last hour. She flits about the room, putting the final touches to everything as I sit impatiently on the couch. Alice is more than happy to support me through this troubling time, because if there is something she wants, other than Jasper naked in her bed, it's me and Edward together. Preferably also naked in a bed.

I want it so bad too.

It is almost Valentine's Day, which means that it has been almost two months since I last saw Edward. Alice has assured me that we would need some space, and that I should take some time to mourn my old relationship with Alec before attempting to establish a new one with Edward. Alice didn't care when I told her I was done mourning after a week.

She wanted to throw a party; and not just any party either – a Valentine's Day party. It was the 'perfect setup.'

I had shoved her pretty little face into a pillow when she told me that.

But that was her plan, and you don't go against a plan made by Alice Brandon.

So here we are, throwing a Valentine's Day party – an _early_ Valentine's Day party I might add, because apparently couples will want to spend that special day with each other, not other people.

That had earner her another pillow-shove.

People are filtering in slowly, looking around in wide-eyed awe at first, as their eyes vainly try to take in all the hearts and pink balloons and red candles and fluffy things and all that other crap that Alice has adorned our apartment with.

I wander around the place, chatting and socializing like a complete dork, outwardly calm, pleasant and collected. On the inside, however, I am a nervous wreck, because all I can think about is that _Edward_ is going to be here soon.

I become more and more nervous, and also a little sweaty and gross, as time passes and no Jasper and Edward walk through the door.

What if Alice is wrong? She has never been wrong before, but there has to be a first for everything, right? What if he isn't coming? What if he doesn't want to see me again? What if—

"Bella!"

Alice squeals next to me, tugging on my arm hard enough to rip it off. Her eyes are trained towards the door.

I follow them, almost afraid I won't see what I'm desperately hoping I will see.

But I do.

A bronze, product-defying mess of hair, pale skin, perfect face, straight and strong jaw, and those indescribable green eyes.

_He's here_.

I raise my arm unconsciously and give him a small wave. His eyes lock with mine, and that grin of his that literally makes my knees buckle just a little bit appears on his lips.


	2. The Valentine Days

**Chapter 2: The Valentine Days**

BPOV

Edward and I are sitting outside on the fire-escape while the 'early' Valentine's Day party continues inside. We have a pitcher of something pink with vodka in it lounging between us, as well as an overloaded platter of cupcakes and a box of chocolates. I stole all these things one-by-one while Alice wasn't looking, perfecting my mad skills in the 'stealthy ninja' arena.

It's really easy when you just have to drop things out the kitchen window.

When our snacks were all taken care of, I also stole Edward and we made our escape out here. When Alice had started enthusiastically talking about 'a game' I had gotten suspicious and a bit worried.

When she began to line people up in our living room, Edward and I shared a terrified look. We had slowly inched our way towards the kitchen window.

When Alice brought out two balls of yarn with fucking spoons tied to the ends, we dived out to the safety of the cold night, via the kitchen window.

The party so far has been… good. Edward and I have talked and hung out and stuff, and it's been… well, good.

Yeah, no… it's been a little awkward.

Why? I don't know. It could have something to do with how Alice and Jasper were either throwing glances our way, only to start giggling like the little school-girls I've always suspected them of being, or swooping in to distract the poor person who thought they were free to join mine and Edward's conversation.

I have literally not said anything beyond 'Hey, how are you?' to anyone since Edward arrived.

I can't say I'm complaining though – most of the people Alice invited are like… couples. The boring ones. The ones that want to go out on double-dates to some stuffy old restaurant were the topics range from such hilarities as the stock market, book-clubs and Margaret Thatcher.

I'm starting to think Alice did this on purpose. She _knows_ I wouldn't fit in with these people and that it would force me to stick to Edward like a, well, like a weird chick at a party attended solely by people she can't stand save for _one_ guy.

Of course, Edward is a ridiculously hot guy that I really like, so things could be worse.

I pick up a random piece of chocolate from the box beside me and thoughtlessly throw it into my mouth. I regret this decision instantly.

Edward looks over at me in alarm when I gag, slapping my hand in front of my mouth so I won't spit the thing out and make our awkward silence even more awkward.

"Bella?" he asks, hesitantly reaching out with his hand. I can tell that he doesn't know if he wants to touch me after I make such a disgusting sound – what if I throw up on him or something? – and I close my eyes and shake my head viciously.

There's coconut in my chocolate.

_God, I fucking hate coconut!_

The thing seems to swell on my tongue until the taste has completely taken over my mouth. I whimper in panic, because coconut really grosses me out, but I can't do anything with Edward sitting right there, looking torn between helping me with whatever the fuck my problem is or getting out while he still can.

"Bella? Are you…? Wh-what are you… doing?"

I open my eyes slowly as I breath rapidly through my nose.

"Coke-oh-fnuffh!" I complain behind my cupped hand. I look around frantically, avoiding the confused and slightly scared expression on Edward's face. I realise I don't have any other option – I have to expel this monstrosity, or I _will_ barf all over the adorkable drugstore worker I've been lusting after for two months.

I blush in advance.

I hold my finger up to Edward, showing him that I need just one second. I get up on my hands and knees and crawl over to the edge of the fire-escape.

I then proceed to spit the emulsified and half-chewed piece of coconut chocolate onto the street below, another round of gag-sounds following in its wake.

I choose to not look at him as I make my way back to the wall. I grab the jug of pink vodka-whatever, pour some in to a glass and proceed to gurgle with it.

As I make an even bigger idiot of myself in front of Edward – god, when will the humiliation stop? First with the scratching and the rash and the... the... accidental ass-against-his-dick-moment, and now with me spitting food out like I'm fucking two years old and then gurgling pink vodka-whatever – I distract myself with trying to pinpoint the pink flavour.

Strawberry, raspberry or pomegranate?

I swallow, and pause. Can I look at him without my face bursting into flames? No, no I cannot.

I bring my glass up and tip my head back, pouring all the rest of it down my throat. Liquid courage – every drop will help. The burn that accompanies it fortifies me, and probably makes me grow a pair of testicles too, because _holy fuck_ that's strong.

I shudder and make an involuntary 'urgh' kind of noise, which I decide not to dwell on too much. Edward must have understood by now that I'm a strange kind of woman - there's no point in trying to hide it.

Besides, I've never been good at hiding anyway. I was the kid who, during games of Hide and Seek, reasoned that if I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me either, which resulted in me just putting a pillow over my head or something. Suffice to say, I never won.

I sigh. I can feel Edward looking at me and after a few seconds I realise that it's not like I can avoid looking at him all evening. Especially not if I want to get in his pants. Which I do.

A lot.

I turn my head slowly and meet his eyes. His expression is a lot less horrified than I thought it would be.

Instead of offering a real explanation for my behaviour until he asks – why make it easy, right? – I pour us both some more pink vodka-whatever. I shove a glass under his nose.

"I can't decide what the pink flavour is – any ideas?"

Edward blinks a few times before gingerly taking the glass from me. He sips thoughtfully (I can't believe he's actually humouring me with this), swishing the liquid around in his mouth. He then makes a squishy face, which is totally adorable, and quickly swallows. He shudders and emits the same kind of 'urgh' sound I made, which makes me unreasonably proud.

"Jesus fucking christ! I'd venture a guess and say it's just food-colouring, because if that's not pure vodka you can just go ahead and call me Suzy."

I giggle and then frown. "Suzy?"

Edward raises his eyebrows at me. "Yeah, you know... it's a saying."

"A saying?"

"Uh-huh. Like, if I'm wrong you can call me by a girl's name, because it's fucking embarrassing and emasculating."

I nod slowly. "I see."

I take another sip of my drink. No, there's definitely something fruity in here.

"Well then, I hope you enjoy your new name, Suzy."

"Wha-...? No, it was, I-I wasn't... it's a joke, not- it's not... please don't call me Suzy."

I snort into my glass. "Sorry, Suzy – you brought it up."

"Well, I haven't been proven wrong yet, so can you lay off the girly-name, please?"

"Why?"

He ignores me and gestures with his chin towards the edge of the fire escape. "What was that all about?"

Subtle.

I decide, since I'll most likely be calling him Suzy all night, that being embarrassed over the Attack of the Disgusting Coconut Chocolate simply isn't worth the effort.

"It was coconut – I hate coconut, with a passion."

He hums in understanding. He carefully puts his glass down beside him before picking up the box of chocolates. As he studies it intently, his long, incredibly sexy fingers waving in small circles over the candy, I entertain myself with wondering why I can't even think the words '_box of chocolates'_ in my head without hearing Tom Hanks' voice as Forrest Gump.

After a minute, Edward starts picking out what appears to be random pieces from the box. I lean a little closer out of interest.

"Whatya' doin', Suzy?"

He doesn't react like I wanted him to. He just continues to intently frown down at the red box of chocolates in his hands.

"I'm taking out the coconut for you," he murmurs, throwing one into his mouth.

My eyes slowly rise to sweep over his profile. Damn, he is so fucking... _pretty_. But as he sits there, hunched over a red box of chocolates, picking out the coconut ones _for me_... he is so much more than pretty.

He's beautiful and sweet and kind and just so... so... hot.

I want to straddle him so fucking bad right now.

"Thank you," I say instead, my voice soft and quiet. I'm awarded with a small tug of his lips and the tips of his ears turning a little red.

And just like that, I realise it isn't awkward between us anymore.

I smile into my glass, as the prospect of getting him out of his junk-hugging jeans is looking increasingly better by the minute.

"So..." he mumbles around the chocolate in his mouth, "have you also had the feeling that Alice and Jazz were kinda keeping us away from each other until tonight?"

Oh, he's so perceptive – I can't believe how much that is turning me on right now.

"It's all part of their plan, Suzy."

His nostrils flare in the cutest way ever, but he doesn't tell me to stop calling him that. "Their plan?"

"Alice concocted a plan as to when you and I would meet again. This," I say, waving my hand over my shoulder into the charade of a party, "is just an elaborate ruse."

"A ruse?"

"Mmhm."

"Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know – Alice always thinks she knows best. I've just reached the point where fighting her on stuff is more work than it's worth."

"Well... what's the point of it? The plan?"

I start studying my fingers, because that seems a whole lot more intelligent than looking at his face right now – I want him to think I'm pretty and cute and stuff, and if I look at him while blushing like I am about to start doing in t-minus three seconds, that dream is just gonna go straight out the window.

"Well, I think the end-goal was for us to... uhm... for you an-and me to, you know... for us t-to..." It's so much more adorable when Edward stutters – I just sound stupid. I finish off the last of my pink vodka-whatever and my newly acquired pair of testicles pull back into my body in pure protest. I really needed to ask Alice what the fuck she put in this drink.

"For us to...?" Edward prompts when my silence stretches beyond the socially acceptable time-limit for fortifying pauses.

If I wasn't already convinced I had done so already, I would be metaphorically growing a pair of balls right now. Either way, it doesn't help at all, because I still stutter like a moron when I speak. "For us to... go o-... o-out?"

Yes, my verbal skills are astonishing.

Edward hums again. I can see from the corner of my eye how he sort of nods slowly before picking out another piece of chocolate.

I start sweating, because I just told him, in a round-about way, that I think we should totally go out, and he's just sitting there, looking all cute and hot while he hums and munches on chocolates that basically make me barf.

Maybe I called him Suzy one too many times? What if he doesn't want to go out with a weird chick who calls him girl-names? That would totally make sense, because who _would_ want to go out with someone like that?

Yet again, my brain has basically destroyed any chance of me getting laid in the near future. Fucking great.

The silences stretches on until Edward swallows the chocolate and puts the box down between us. I hear him take a deep breath, and oh my god, here it comes – the rejection, the let-down, the '_I think you're really great, but I'm just not in that place right now, you know?_', the-

"Well, that sucks."

Holy crap, that hurt more than I thought it would. My breath hitches in my throat as I battle against the pain of Edward not wanting to go out with me.

"Now they're just going to think it's all thanks to them – they're going to be unbearable."

_Huh?_

"Huh?" I eloquently ask as my head snaps up and around to stare at him.

Edward turns to look at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"When we go out – Jazz and Alice will never shut up about how they 'made it happen,' when in reality I would have asked you out regardless."

I feel like I'm glowing. Fucking glowing, like I'm radiating happiness.

"Really?" I ask, because I am a girl and I like verification.

Edward chuckles. "Yeah."

I barely restrain a nervous but excited giggle. "Great," I say instead, and I feel very pleased about my normal response.

Edward's incredibly attractive smile spreads even wider, and I'm pretty sure that if I had been standing I would have collapsed on the floor in a suddenly boneless puddle of quivering girl-goo.

I'm going to go out with an adorkable drugstore worker who wears junk-hugging jeans and scratched my itch so good I almost came in my pants after knowing me for 10 minutes.

I just don't think it gets any better than that. Or well, at least not until I get him naked.

««◊»»

I'm standing outside Edward and Jasper's apartment... on Valentine's Day. It was decided that since Alice would be turning our apartment into a love cave for her and her darling boyfriend, and I was not welcome back until 0:01 am at the earliest, I would be spending the evening with Edward.

On Valentine's Day.

For our first date.

Awesome – no pressure at all.

I bite my lip as I look down at myself. I start to wonder if I'm overdressed. Or underdressed. I have no idea what we're doing tonight, but when I was trying to put clothes on my body earlier, the only term that kept running through my mind was 'hanging out'. I chose jeans and a sweater. Always a safe bet.

What's Edward wearing? I hope it's some kind of junk-hugging pants.

Or no pants at all. That would actually be preferable. If I could just walk into the apartment and find him completely naked and waiting for me, that would be ace.

I knock on the door and patiently, or impatiently, whatever, wait for him to let me in.

"Hi!" he says enthusiastically from the door before waving me in.

Edward is wearing his amazing junk-hugging jeans and a t-shirt, and he looks so good. It's almost like it should be illegal to be so handsome, but he's just so... with the hair, the jaw, the cheekbones, his eyes and that mouth...

Edward smiles at me after I dump my bag by the door. "How are you?"

_Horny_.

"I'm good, you?" I respond.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Good."

"Mmhm."

We stare at each other. If this were a cartoon, crickets would be heard in the background.

"So..." Edward says, rocking on his heels a little. "I was thinking we could order some food? Like, pizza or... I dunno, Chinese? What do you like?"

"Chinese would be good," I say and smile, because I like Chinese and eating it with Edward will only make it better.

30 minutes later our orders arrive and we settle down in front of the TV. It doesn't escape my notice that we both seem to gravitate towards each other, and we're sitting quite close on the couch. _Totally fine by me_.

We decide to watch a zombie movie, because gore and guts and dead people trying to eat other people is always appealing. Also, I think it nicely counteracts the idea of Valentine's Day, which just makes me happy. We should totally watch some romantic chick-flick on Halloween out of principle.

We're about halfway through the movie, which is totally disgusting, and a girl is running screaming across a parking lot while decaying corpses chase after her, when I can see Edward's head turning in my direction.

I automatically turn my head to look back at him, and catch him staring at my tits. _Score_. Edward's eyes snap up to mine and they widen in horror, which is absolutely hilarious, and he blushes and looks back at the TV, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Oh, hell no, dude. You just checked out my rack – I think that warrants a little conversation on our part, don't you think? Don't you dare go back to pretending to appreciate the rotting flesh of the blonde soccer-mom currently munching down on the screaming girl's arm.

Totally relying on the charm of my bazoongas, I turn my body towards him, tucking my right leg beneath me. I thrust my chest out just a little bit, leaning against the cushions. Edward seems a little confused by this, as he looks at me with one eyebrow raised. His eyes flicker down to my cleavage for a split second.

"So I just realised I don't actually know that much about you."

This is a total lie – I basically milked Alice for every single detail she knew about him right after I dumped Alec two months ago, but I want him to talk to me, and people like it when you're interested in them, right?

For the next hour, Edward and I talk about ourselves; he tells me stories about growing up with his brother Emmett – the sentence 'and a trip to the ER later...' is said an impressive amount of times – while I can't reciprocate with funny childhood sibling stories at all, because my parents never saw fit to bless their lives with another kid.

It sometimes makes me wonder if they simply assumed they couldn't possibly top me, so why even try, or if they looked at me and thought '_god, what if we get another one of those?_' and just didn't want to chance it.

We talk about high school and why we came here to study at collage, why we're doing this, why we're doing that, our jobs, how I met Alice and how he met Jasper.

The topic almost inevitably slides on to how he and I met, and I'll be honest and say I feel a little awkward thinking back on that night, because the guy scratched me.

_Scratched me_.

It does feel kind of nice to laugh about it though, and it is more than nice to listen to Edward's chuckles. He has the best laugh. It makes me all warm and puts butterflies in my stomach, and the fact that I can even say that – butterflies in my stomach – is a testament to how awesome his laugh is, because just the thought of actually having butterflies in my stomach makes me break out in a cold sweat due to the fact that butterflies freak me right the fuck out. I mean, yes, they're very pretty to look at sometimes, but when they're coming right at me, flopping up and down and threatening to land in my hair or my eyes, I run screaming in the other direction.

Shut up.

"So, uh... Alice told me you and your boyfriend broke up," Edward says, trying to act all nonchalant.

"Yeah, I kind of realised it wasn't really working," I say, and Edward can't seem to get a grip on the traditional sympathy-face one usually sports after hearing a statement like that. He looks undoubtedly pleased.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Yeah, sure you are.

"Meh, it wasn't like... sad, for me or anything. I think the whole soap-thing made me realise that we weren't really... compatible?" Edward nods in understanding, his wonky I'm-totally-trying-to-look-all-sympathetic-for-you-upon-hearing-the-news-of-your-relationship-ending-when-in-fact-I-am-jumping-for-joy-on-the-inside-face still in place.

So. Fucking. Cute.

On some level of my mind, I realise that the movie has ended, but I choose to ignore this a little bit longer in favour of continuing this conversation with Edward.

"Plus, now I don't have to deal with his creepy twin sister Jane. That girl seriously freaked me out. I swear she's into Wicca or Voodoo. Honest to god, I once caught her picking two strands of hair off my pillow when she came over one night to visit Alec, and it wouldn't surprise me if she went home and made a fucking doll or something."

Edward looks torn between horror and amusement. I know, me too. Jane is fucking psycho, which is actually quite hilarious, in a scary-funny sort of way.

"Huh... well, tha- that's, uh... I don't really know what to say to that actually," he chuckles, scratching at the back of his head.

_Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick_.

His arm, at that angle? His bicep is fucking bulging. It's teasing me, peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt, just... _bulging_ in my face. I want to lick it. I'm sure it would taste absolutely delicious, all sweet and like boy.

It's like it's bulging in slow-motion as Edward moves his arm up and down, the muscles moving under his pale skin, and my eyes follow its movement like a cat all high on cat-nip targeting your toes wiggling under a blanket. I see a tiny little freckle, just about an inch away from his elbow, and I suddenly want to get him completely naked so I can find and count every single little freckle he has on his body.

Well, I'd ravish him first, obviously, but after that I would totally take a black magic marker to his ass and play connect-the-dots.

Edward's tiny little smile that he still has on his face after my delightful Jane-anecdote slowly slips away as he stares into my eyes. My heart beats a little faster in pure excitement as I feel a crackle of tension suddenly descending between us. His eyes start burning into mine, and the end-credits of the movie slowly fade from my conscious brain, and I'm totally convinced that there's not another sound in the room except for our breathing.

My lungs realise that my heart is pumping a little faster for a reason and they try to catch up – I find myself taking shorter and faster gasps of air, and I realise that I can definitely use this to my advantage. I purposefully make my boobs rise and fall enticingly, because Edward seemed very interested in them before, and if I can divert his attention to them again he might be inclined to reach out and touch them, which would just be awesome.

Edward licks his lips and I think my jaw drops just little. His intensely burning gaze flickers down to my mouth for a split second, but that's all I need. I silently war with myself whether I can be brave enough to initiate the kiss I have been fucking lusting after for two months, and the side of me that has not yet relinquished the pink vodka-whatever-induced balls bickers with the part of me who is deathly afraid of initiating anything at all – it's fucking exhausting to listen to.

My brain – which is _finally_ making an effort to get me laid instead of making me word-vomit complete insanities – disconnects those two parts of me completely, and I suddenly feel my body leaning forward, just a little, like a question – '_can I...? Will you...?_'

Edward starts breathing faster. I can both see the truly fascinating way his chest is moving quicker and hear how he exhales more forcefully down his nose with each passing nanosecond. Then he leans forward a little, too, answering my question with one of his own: _'Do you...? Are we...?_'

You bet your adorkable little ass we are.

We slowly move closer and closer, our eyes retaining the intense connection, drawing us forward and egging us on. My girly parts are shrieking in inarticulate giddiness at how close Edward's lips are to my own, but they stop with bated breaths as our mouths come within an inch of each other.

I can feel his breath tickling my skin as we pause, the crackling tension zapping and sparking between us. Edward swallows slowly and I lean forward just a little bit more.

The tip of my nose glides along his and our lips are _almost_, not quite, but almost, touching now. The anticipation is so fucking sweet and perfect.

With a small groan, Edward leans in the rest of the way and our lips meet. My brain stops working. All I can feel and see and hear and touch and smell and taste is _Edward_. Edward and his lips and the second little groan that rises from his throat, or is that me making that sound? I can't be sure, and I don't fucking care. Edward is kissing me, and his lips are so delicious and soft and warm, and they fit so perfectly against my own.

I whimper, pressing my mouth harder against him. This has been building in me for two months. Two months I've dreamed of doing exactly this, and it is so much better in reality.

I can suddenly feel Edward's hand grabbing at me, his long fingers wrapping around my arms and bringing me closer. I open my mouth for him as I comply, shuffling closer until my own hands are pressing into his chest.

I want him to take his shirt off.

Edward's tongue sweeps over my lower lip and I happily accept the invitation to do the same. As our hands and lips and tongue all get into the action, our kissing gets steadily more frantic and urgent. Edward's tongue is in my mouth, and then I'm biting down on his lip, and he's groaning and the sound makes me whimper, and I'm clutching at his t-shirt desperately. His fingers, oh god, his _fingers_ are moving across my back, a burning heat flaring up in the wake of his palms as they slide, one down to my lower back and one over my shoulder-blade.

_He's touching me!_

My girly parts are practically passed out at this point. Jesus fucking christ, I've never felt anything like this before, and we're only making out like teenagers.

I want to touch his hair.

I then realise that I _can_ touch his hair, which is just brilliantly clever of me to remember.

With my heart beating a million miles a minute and my lungs burning with lack of oxygen as I pant for breath, I comply with the urgent pressure of Edward's hands and move even closer to him. Our chests smash together and I wrap my arms around his shoulders with a whimpered moan. My hand rakes through the hair at his neck, and I can't even describe how amazing it feels. It's so fucking soft and just... awesome.

He has awesome hair.

I am so turned on right now.

It's almost an involuntary action for me to climb onto his lap, my legs on either side of his. The most delicious grunt leaves him as I press myself down on him and I get up-close and personal with his woody for the second time.

_Why, hello lover_.

I moan loudly into his mouth as I rub up against my new favourite thing in the whole wide world.

"Oh, god – Bella," he groans against my lips, and his hands have found their way under my top. I shiver violently as I feel his fingers against my bare skin.

Since Edward doesn't stop me, or show any signs at all that he might not approve of my new plan of action, I thrust my hips again. An enticing hiss from Edward encourages me to keep doing it.

Dry-humping is so much _fun_.

Edward's hands are sliding over my skin, but I want more – more skin-to-skin contact, more delicious tingles and fucking rainbows and sparkles and everything else that he is making me feel right now. I wrench myself away from his mouth and reach for the hem of my sweater. Edward's hands have migrated to my hips and he watches with rapt attention as I undress myself.

I feel sexy when I manage to pull the top over my head without getting it caught on my nose or something, and my hair follows but then falls back around my head in perfectly tousled waves. Edward's eyes are wide and amazed, pure lust simmering in the green depths.

I grind my hips down on him again and we both emit sounds of utmost pleasure.

"Holy shit, you are so beautiful," Edward groans, leaning forward to place his warm lips on my throat. His open-mouthed kisses are searing through my skin.

"Thank you," I moan, arching my back and then I let out a loud, incoherent groany kind of thing, because arching my back and grinding into his junk like this is a freaking perfect combo.

I then remember the reason I took my sweater off in the first place and I grab at his t-shirt.

He seems to get the hint and he pulls away from my throat so that I can pull his shirt off. I throw it away carelessly, because now he's half-naked and that's all that matters.

"Jesus..." I gasp as I see him like this.

He blushes at my apparent ogling, or maybe he's just flushing with arousal – either one is fine.

I run my fingers through his happy trail, a dark auburn marker of where the goods are. His muscles clench when I do this.

I crash my lips against his again and start to grind on him with even more enthusiasm than before. I have never been this turned on in my entire life.

We go on dry-humping for several minutes, our sounds and erotically charged curses echoing off the walls. I'm all flushed and hot, and so goddamn close to coming in my pants, but I kind of don't want to come yet, because I don't want this feeling to ever, _ever_ stop.

That's when I feel Edward's hands on my back, pressing us together tightly. I get a sudden bout of inspiration, but I don't know if it's crazy or genius.

"Ed-Edward?" I gasp as my thrusts and grindings start to become harder and more erratic the closer I get.

"Yeah?" he pants against my lips.

"This will-... _god_ – sound weird, bu-but can you- scratch my back?"

"Wh-what?" Edward grunts, but I can feel his fingers curling against me, prepared to comply with my wish.

"_Edward, please!_ Oh god, oh god, oh god, _yes!_"

He hesitates for another second or two, and just as I cross the point of no return, he rakes his fingers down my spine.

The feel of it is so intense, so fucking gloriously amazing, that I scream out in pleasure. My skin erupts in rippling gooseflesh and my orgasm gets amped up like fucking mad. My whole body tenses and clenches, my heart almost stops, and my hips make one final thrust, just as Edward drags his fingers back up my spine.

I explode. I can't even hear what sounds are pouring out of my throat as the most intense orgasm of my life crashes into me. Wave after wave after wave hits me, slams into me, grips my body and takes it somewhere so fucking awesomely good, I don't ever want to come down.

Blood rushes through my veins, my heart pounding under my ribs. I'm still moving, still grinding desperately against Edward, but I dimly realise I have collapsed against him, my mouth against his shoulder and I'm biting him. My screams of pleasure are muffled by skin that tastes sweet and warm and like boy, like Edward, and my teeth are sinking into hard muscle.

With a final, drawn out moan, I slowly still as all the energy drains from my body. I turn my head into his neck, clutching at him desperately as I start coming down.

_Holy fuck, I have a scratch-fetish_.

I don't know whether or not that's funny or just very, very useful.

"Edward..." I moan softly, trying to get my breathing under control.

"Oh god, Bella, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," he groans, and I can hear the rumble of it in his chest. I realise that he's now the one thrusting and grinding against me, because he's obviously still really hard and stuff, and I'm just covering him like a post-orgasmic blanket of happiness and girl-goo.

Well, that won't do.

I decide, since he was so understanding about helping me discover my new scratch-fetish, that I'll go above and beyond the dry-hump to help him get his. I raise myself a little, and put a shaky hand on his cheek before slowly scooting back a little on his legs.

He makes a distressed sort of noise at the back of this throat as I remove myself from his boner, which I totally understand, so I give him a reassuring kiss so he'll stop looking all panicky.

I trail my fingers down his check, over his magnificent jaw, and follow the line of his muscles all the way down to his happy trail. Edward holds his breath and his panicky eyes turn ridiculously hopeful as my fingers get to work on his button-fly.

I look up at him through my lashes as I tug at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and he lifts his hips a little to allow me to pull them down far enough for what I'm planning.

And then, for the first time ever, I lay eyes on his dick.

It's beautiful. It's the most perfect dick ever, I'm absolutely positive. I'm pretty sure I'm gaping at it in awe, but I don't care because guys like that kind of stuff, right?

Edward's head falls back with a deep groan as I take him in my hand.

"Oh god, _Bella_!" he hisses between clenched teeth, and his chest is heaving and his pulse is thundering under the skin of his throat.

Not 15 seconds later, I get to experience the epicness that is Edward's face as he releases onto his stomach, curses and strangled groans leaving him at a rapid pace. The word 'fuck' has never sounded more amazing than when Edward's moans it mid-orgasm.

His muscles all relax at once, making him collapse against the couch in a heap. We're both fighting to get air into our lungs, waiting for our hearts to slow down. I lean down and kiss him slowly, without touching my stomach to his jizz because that's honestly something I can do without. Our lips move softly against each other, affectionate pecks and kisses that show appreciation and awe over what just happened between us.

I should probably be ashamed that this happened on our very first date ever, but I just can't find it in myself to care.

* * *

**Thanks for reading this; I hope you enjoyed it.**

**xxx**

**/Victoria**


	3. The Unexplained Cupcakes

**Chapter 3: The Unexplained Cupcakes**

"Bella?" a groggy voice croaks from behind me. I do not turn around, for I do not have time for such silly things as turning around. "Okay… I'm gonna ask this as nicely as possible, considering that it's 5.52 am: what the _fuck_ are you fucking doing?"

Normally I am not against these kind of rhetorical questions – in fact, I usually blurt them out all the time myself – but right now is not the time for rhetorical questions. Right now is the time to take a look around at the complete and utter mess that is our kitchen, and take in all the mixing bowls and eggs and milk and flour and butter and the Bella standing in the middle of said kitchen covered in all these ingredients, and then deduce what the fuck is going on all on your own.

I am not in the mood to be asked these kind of things.

"What do you think is going on Alice?" I spit out as I ladle spoonful after spoonful of batter into cupcake liners. I'm almost ashamed of the general pinkness and the corny flowers that adorn these cupcake liners, but they were all I had and it wasn't like I was about to go out at five in the morning to buy less pink cupcake liners, because what kind of crazy person would do that?

"Are you...? Are you making... _cupcakes?_" Alice asks, again with the rhetorical redundancy. "What are you, crazy?"

What? Aren't you listening? _No!_ N-fucking-O. I have already established that I am in fact not crazy, because I stuck with the pink cupcake liners instead of going out and buying more sensible ones. God Alice, don't you listen?

This is when I realise that perhaps I actually am crazy, because I just failed to realise that Alice can't read my mind.

"No, I'm not crazy. I'm apparently unable to sleep, and I thought cupcakes would be, you know... cool."

"You couldn't sleep, so you decided to make cupcakes?" Alice shuffled closer. "At five in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Mmhm... why cupcakes, though? Why not something like... pancakes? You know, like actual breakfast?"

At this I actually do pause thoughtfully, another spoonful of batter precariously hovering over the pan. "I-... I don't know," I answer, slightly confused. As if to further prove how actually insane I am, the idea of making anything _besides_ cupcakes has never even crossed my mind since I woke up almost three hours ago.

Alice sighs next to me before I feel her hand sympathetically pat me on the shoulder. "Bella? Is something bothering you?"

I frown at the bowl of batter in front of me.

"Since you apparently can't sleep and your answer to that is making cupcakes for obscure reasons even you can't figure out? I mean, I know you're weird and all, but this seems excessively strange, even for you."

You'd think that would offend me, but it really doesn't – she's just being honest.

Is something bothering me? Well, yes, there is; I don't even have to think very hard about that, but is it really bothering me enough to cause crazy-ass insomnia and cupcake-baking obsessions for obscure reasons?

I'll let Alice help me decide.

"There is _something_ bothering me... but I-... it doesn't seem like _that_ big of a deal," I tell her, accidentally splattering the wall with a blob of thick and goupy cupcake batter as I nonchalantly gesture with my hands.

We both watch in silence as the yellow glob snails its way down the tiles.

"So what's wrong?" Alice asks after turning back to me.

I sigh and drop the spoon back into the bowl. Better have empty hands for this conversation, or I might end up covering us both in my fruitful work.

"It's about... Edward."

There. I said it. It's about Edward.

"What about Edward?" Alice yawns. She looks really tired. Maybe 6 am is a bit early for her, even though I am clearly immune to its effects. My suspicions are proven correct when she turns away from me and reaches for the coffee-pot as if her life depends on it.

"Well..." I hesitate while fidgeting with my fingers, a habit I've found it hard to break over the years. Or well, actually it's more than a habit – I just do it all the time, no matter if I'm nervous or scared or happy or bored. I fiddle with my fingers regardless. I probably do it in my sleep. I should ask Edward about that sometime.

_Ah... but that's the problem, isn't it?_

"Spit it out, Bella," Alice snaps at me viciously as she measures out coffee. Whoa, someone's a bitch without their caffeine-fix.

"We haven't had sex yet."

Alice drops the measuring spoon and stares at me.

"But Valentine's Day was a month ago!"

"I know, right?" I almost shriek while stomping my foot. Wow. Clearly, this issue is bothering me more than I thought. I really didn't mean for that outburst to happen. I look down at the floor and my stomp-happy foot in confusion. _Clearly_, this issue is bothering me a fuckload.

"But... I don't get it." Alice looks at me in wide-eyed perplexity. This no-sex-yet-thing is definitely a phenomenon neither one of us is used to dealing with.

"I don't-... it's just so weird, dude! Like, every time we get close to doing something, we get cockblocked! It's fucking ridiculous!"

I cross, uncross and re-cross my arms during my outburst as I stare at my best friend, and I am definitely coming to terms with the fact that this no-sex-yet-thing could be the reason behind the unidentified and annoying frustration I have been feeling recently.

Really, I should have pieced it all together sooner than this – I mean, I'm fucking smart, sometimes, and I do pride myself on being pretty good at pointing out the obvious (it's a talent), but apparently that talent doesn't cover my own damn problems. Seriously, I should have known. The bubbling sense of frustration started right around Valentine's Day and has only been building since then.

"But you've seen him like every single day since Valentine's Day! How could you not have become intimately acquainted with his Biggus Dickus yet?"

We both pause to giggle at her random Monty Python reference and I offer up a high-five for being pure awesome.

"I don't know, Alice! That's the weird part. We do stuff together all the time, but whenever we end up alone and start making out or whatever, something happens! Like I randomly get a nosebleed, or his grandmother calls to complain about her aching hips or the neighbour dog that won't stop barking or how his grandfather's order of grown-up diapers got confused with another order and he was mistakenly sent two months worth of tampons, or there's been a mistake with either his work-schedule or mine and one of us has to rush off to work!"

I frantically hold up my hand as I count down the insane cockblocking events on my fingers. I spurt off all of this in one breath and when I'm done I, for reasons unknown, pick up the spatula I used to mix the cupcake batter with and start walking in circles around the kitchen.

I point the spatula at her for emphasis as I present her with the piece de resistance. "Then there was the party last week, which was totally awesome and we had a really good time, but we drank _way _too much, so by the time we got back to my room with the full intent of finally fucking doing it, he was too drunk to get it up properly and I passed out with my shirt half-over my own head and my skirt pulled up over my boobs!"

I continue pacing the kitchen, breathing heavily now thanks to my outburst, which felt really good unloading on Alice. I really hope she can help me with this, because _clearly_ it's a really big issue for me.

Alice snorts, and I turn to look at her – she is hysterically fighting back giggles. "H-he... couldn't-... his Big-iggus Di-ick...?"

She can't continue past this point. She literally starts laughing so hard that no sound escapes her wide-open gob, except for the occasional snort as she inhales from time to time. She wraps her arms around her stomach as she collapses against the counter, slowly sliding down to the floor. Her face is red, tears are streaming down her cheeks and I am glaring at her. The hate is extremely strong within me, and I want nothing more than to walk over to her right now and smack her repeatedly with my spatula.

"It's. Not. _Funny_!" I shriek at her, dimly surprising myself at the volume of my voice, but feeling indignant enough to not give a shit.

"Y-yes... it... IS!" Alice gasps in between her hysterical laughter, the side of her face pressed into the cold kitchen floor.

"Whada-fuhck...?" a raspy voice grumbles from the doorway, and I turn to see Jasper standing in his boxers while looking down in utter confusion and exhaustion at his Pile of Girlfriend. One hand is down his boxers, not-so-subtly adjusting himself, and the other is jammed into his hair.

What the fuck? Is he _trying_ to piss me off or something? Because the complete mess that is his hair is undoubtedly the result of some very vigorous fucking. He and Alice definitely had fun last night, and now he's coming in here, mocking me with his sex-hair and morning-semi-wood and residual orgasm-induced-sleep puffing up his squinty little eyes.

I _hate_ him. With a fiery, blistering rage that should melt all his stupid skin and muscles right off his stupid bones and reduced him to a stupid pile of Stupid Jazznard ash.

I glare. I glare so hard that when Jasper looks at me, innocently turning his head in my direction, he physically recoils. His stupid, squinty little eyes open up wide as he no doubt tries to figure out what the hell he did to piss me off. Unfortunately for him, I am sex-deprived and as such I am allowed my sudden bouts of unexplained and nonsensical fury.

_Tough shit, Jazznard_.

His eyes flicker between my murdering glare and his ridiculous Pile of Girlfriend.

"Wha-... what happened?" he asks, utterly flabbergasted. He shoots me a quick look, but the fear that visibly shudders through him as he does this makes him approach Alice and keep his eyes trained solely on her instead. Wise decision.

Undesirably, Alice manages to explain the conversation she and I just had to her stupid boyfriend, through her insistent and inane giggles, until they are _both_ literally – fucking _literally_ – rolling on the floor laughing. They're ROFL. They're acronyming on my floor.

"You guys suck!" I declare childishly before attempting to ignore them both and continue on with my cupcakes.

They're still laughing when I put the tray in the oven.

They stop for a minute to catch their breaths while I start cleaning up, but with just one look at each other their stupid laughter bubbles out, all over again.

They're still laughing when I get to work on the fucking frosting.

Seriously, how have they not died from lack of oxygen or burst blood-vessels in the brain yet? Jazznard is fucking sweating for christ's sake. He looks so stupid, all red and shiny in the face as he cries like a little girl and giggles like a little girl and just generally acts like a little. Fucking. Girl.

He's just a stupid, sex-haired, giggles-like-a-little-girl ass-muncher, and he and Alice can just go fuck off and leave me the fuck alone while they... while they-... well, while they go fuck each other.

I am stewing in my own rage and indignation and so deep in it that I barely notice as the two of them crawl out of the kitchen. Yes, physically crawl on their hands and knees while laughing like donkeys.

I'm violently whipping up the frosting, puffs of powdered sugar swirling in the air around me and coating my hair and getting in my eyes and tickling my throat, but I barely notice; I'm _that_ frustrated.

Now that I'm finally putting all the pieces together and understanding where this nonsensical frustration has stemmed from, it's all of a sudden much, much worse than it was before, as if it really is true that 'with great power, comes great responsibilities', only instead of 'great power' it's detrimental knowledge and instead of 'great responsibilities' it's uncontrollable horniness.

I'm so sexually frustrated that I'm fairly positive I won't be able to think of anything but Edward today. Edward and his body and his sexy jaw and messy hair and bulging biceps.

Clearly, going to class today will be an act of fruitlessness. I figure that since I'll only be seeing Edward-shaped people everywhere, I might as well pretend that my insanity is an actual sickness and stay at home, lest I pass it on to others.

Or accidentally hump a desk, a possibility I am not ruling out.

It isn't until I'm standing in my incredibly messy kitchen, covered in flour and butter and eggs and powdered sugar, piping frosting onto my cupcakes in their ridiculously pink cupcake liners, that I realise that these Baked For No Apparent Reason At All Cupcakes would be a perfect excuse to go visit Edward. Because surely I am allowed to give him cupcakes if I've baked them myself, right? I mean, people do that, don't they? Go visit each other out of the blue bearing baked goods?

I almost skewer a cupcake with the frosting pipe as this occurs to me. I have a legitimate excuse to go see Edward today. Edward, who won't be at work until late this evening. Edward, who will be home... alone.

I do realise that it's most likely the sleep deprivation talking, but this seems like an insanely good idea. And not 'insanely' as in there's-something-wrong-with-my-brain crazy, but more like oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-how-crazy-smart-I-am crazy. Maybe I should get a few more hours of sleep before I go over to him though, just to be safe. I mean, I regularly embarrass myself in front of people anyway– no need to make it worse by only having slept for like three hours.

I grin as I finish decorating my cupcakes, imagining how Edward might react when I show up at his door, unannounced, bearing cupcakes.

It's not my fault that my imagination immediately conjures up images of Edward either flinging them to the side so that he can ravage me in gratitude, or him stripping us both naked and then placing all the cupcakes on my body so that he can eat them off of me. I'm blaming my sexual frustration for that.

Sometimes, I really do love myself.

««◊◊»»

After forcing at least five hours of sleep into my system, I finally allow myself to go to Edward. After a quick Wash&Shave in the shower I debate for about 2.5 seconds on what kind of underwear I should put on.

Victoria's Secret wins.

You know how you have at least one bra that _always_ makes your boobs look amazing and helps boost your confidence about a bazillion levels, and how you always save it for special occasions or for when you're going down to the nearest store to buy some Ben & Jerry's at 8.30 pm on a Wednesday because you know the cute guy you've been secretly stalking is working there at that particular time?

Yeah, I'm wearing it now. And I have undies to match.

Edward doesn't stand a chance. There's sheer, black lace, satin bows, flimsy strings and fucking _ruffles_ on my ass, and with my tits firmly pushed up to my chin, I can't help but feel like some kind of goddamn sex on legs.

Is it overdone for a Friday before noon? Well, maybe. For a normal person. But I am Bella fucking Swan, and I am not a normal person. I am clearly slightly insane and very, very horny, and I come armed with cupcakes and Power Panties that will blow my kinda-almost-maybe boyfriend's mind. _Nothing_ will get in my way of ripping off Edward's pants before I knock him on his ass and take him right inside his apartment door.

Or, well, I'll probably lock the door first though, but after _that_, I'll knock him on his ass and take him.

Good plan, yes?

I'm almost buzzing with excitement as I stand outside that very door. I knock, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, and adjust my top so that my dangerously low cleavage is shown to its best advantage, and then I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

I'm getting very nervous, because what if Edward isn't home? I look down at my watch in an insecure fashion, but no, he should be home. I knock again, a bit more apprehensively this time.

My heart is beating a little bit too hard for comfort as I continue to wait; my palm is getting slightly sweaty against the bottom of my cake-tin from nervousness.

_Maybe I should call him?_

But then, just as I'm about to dig my phone out, I hear shuffling.

Slow shuffling... heavy shuffling... suspiciously zombie-like shuffling.

I'm frowning in confusion as the lock turns slowly before the door swings open.

I gasp at the sight in front of me.

"Bell-?" Edward manages to ask in a horribly raspy and hoarse rendition of his usually smooth voice before he starts violently coughing like a 97 year old who's smoked his entire life. He hacks and wheezes his way through the phlegm-fest, leaning against the door for support.

He looks terrible; his cheeks are flushed but all other colour seems drained from his face, leaving him looking pasty and sick. His heavy-lidded eyes are not only really puffy and red, but also shining with what I can only assume is a horrible fever and his hair is a sweaty mess. I won't even try to describe how (as long as I'm being honest) gross his nose looks right now. He's in ratty pyjama pants and a t-shirt, with a thick robe wrapped securely around himself and huge socks on his feet.

_Yeah... I'm not getting any today_.

"Edward..." I gasp, because clearly this is a gasp-worthy sight, as I look him up and down. I then ask that inane question that you always ask even thought the answer is literally staring you in the face. "Are you okay?"

"No," he whimpers in a croak, leaning his forehead against the door as he looks at me with fevered puppy-dog eyes. He starts coughing again, and I wince with him, because damn – it sounds fucking painful.

He looks completely exhausted, and I wonder for a second if I should just leave him alone and go home, but that would just make me a über bitch, and we can't have that. I need to take care of him.

I reach out and put my hand against his forehead, watching as his eyes close at my touch.

"Edward, you're burning up..." I whisper, and my heart is clenching for the guy. He looks completely miserable, and all I want to do is hug him and tuck him into bed and feed him chicken soup and put cold, wet towels on his face or something.

He pouts a little and nods, obviously too sick to pretend to be fine.

_Fuck, he's so adorable, even when he's totally snotty and gross_.

I take a deep breath and jump into Head Nurse role. Or no, wait – no, scratch the nurse thing, because now I'm just imaging myself in a nurses outfit and Edward in a doctor's coat with like a stethoscope around his neck and there are so many scenarios my perv-brain will inevitably conjure up with those two things, and it's just better if I don't go there right now.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?" I ask Edward as I step forward, squeezing past him into the apartment.

The door closes slowly behind me as Edward wheezes out a curious, "Uh...?"

I turn to him with both eyebrows raised. "What?"

"No, I just-..." he rasps, looking at me with confusion.

I stare back, because I seriously have no idea what he's trying to say.

"Why are you...?" he pushes out of his throat, and I have half a mind to enforce a Shut-the-hell-up-until-you're-better-rule, because his throat is definitely killing him – just listening to him forcing words out in that grating voice is making me all kinds of sad.

"Why am I here?" I ask and he nods slowly before another coughing fit ripples through him.

I wait until he's done before speaking. "I, uh... I made cupcakes this morning, and I just came over to see-... I mean, I wanted to give some of them to you."

Oh god, I'm so awkward. I raise the cake-tin a little and waggle it carefully, to display my intended gift. Edward's puffy eyes focus intently on it, and he sways a little unsteadily. I instinctively take a step towards him, just to catch him if he should suddenly fall over or something. I really hope he doesn't do that, because Edward is like tall and has muscles and stuff, so he's really heavy and I'm really not, so if he falls over and I try to catch him, chances are we'd both go crashing to the floor, and while Edward would get a cushy landing on my boobs, I wouldn't be so lucky. To be honest, I'd probably break my leg or something.

_Please, Edward – don't fall over_.

"Whoa... you okay there?" I ask, my free hand reaching out for him.

Edward chuckles under his breath and nods. "Yeah, I'm fine," he basically whispers, because his voice is so fucking hoarse and broken. It sounds like he's speaking around a fistful of gravel. "I should probably go lie down again."

He then looks at me funny, again. Like he's a bit unsure about me or something.

The thought that maybe he doesn't want me here crosses my mind, but I decide that unless he actually says '_Bella, please leave me alone_', he's stuck with me. I don't have a lot of experience with guys and relationships and all that, but I do know that sick guys need attention – yes, they're whiny and yes, they blow everything out of proportion, but they really just want someone to take care of them.

I want to be that person for Edward. So he's stuck with me now, because if I leave his best hope for a nurse is Jazznard whenever he sees fit to yank himself away from Alice, and that just-... well, that would be horrible for the both of them.

"Alright, let's get you in bed, and I'll make some soup or something warm for you to drink – your throat sounds terrible," I say with gentle authority, turning quickly to the kitchen to deposit the cake-tin. As I walk back to Edward, still standing in front of the door with his mouth hanging slightly open, I remove my coat and a bit carelessly throw it onto a peg on the wall.

"So, couch or bed?" I ask Edward, who is now looking a bit stupid with his jaw all loose as he stares at me.

He blinks a few times. "Huh?"

"Where do you want to lie down? Bed or couch?"

He blinks some more. "Bella, you don't-..."

"Do you have a TV in your room? Because then bed might be more comfortable and we could watch a movie or something and you can sleep, or whatever you need," I interrupt before he can say that I don't need to do this. Because I do want to do this.

"Bella, you don't have to stay an-"

"I want to," I blurt out confidently, reaching over to take his hand. I squeeze it gently, smiling up at him. He looks down into my eyes, a little confused, a little sad and a whole lot of hopeful. "Really, I do."

He hesitates for a little, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine. "You're sure? I mean, I'm all... gross," he says, wincing a little when his voice breaks. I wonder if he has any honey or something at home. Maybe I should run to the store.

"You're not gross," I rebut, reaching up to stroke a wayward lock of his hair off his forehead. My cold fingertips ghost along his skin, and I'm struck anew by how hot he is.

With fever, I mean. I've always been fully aware of how _hot_ he is, I'm just trying to not have my head in the gutter right now.

Edward smiles ruefully at me, and it is still a heartbreakingly gorgeous smile despite his icky sickness. "I'm extremely gross right now. You have no idea how much snot and mucous is stuffing up my nostrils at this very moment."

I stare at him. I can't believe he just said that to me. God, we really need to have sex soon, or we'll pass that Best Before date and remain friends forever. You don't talk about snot and mucous with your kinda-almost-maybe girlfriend, do you? Not if you want to _do_ her. Snot and mucous are off limits as conversation topics with significant others until you've had sex at least seven times, according to the rules I just made up.

This can't be good. I wonder if 'accidentally' flashing him my Amazing Bra will not only make him feel better, but also make him view me as his almost-maybe girlfriend, thereby excluding the 'kinda' aspect from my imaginary title.

I'll have to give that some thought.

As I'm actually _physically_ tucking Edward into bed – and I'm talking fluffing pillows, straightening sheets and doing that thing your mom always did when you were a kid, when you flick the cover up really high in the air so that it billows and makes a funny sound before floating down slowly like a balloon and landing perfectly on you with a cooling gust of air – I contemplate how Edward might have gotten this sick.

We didn't see each other yesterday, so it would make sense if he started coming down with this then. But where did he get it?

Oh my god, what if he pissed off wanna-be-vamp/goth/emo/potentially-soulless-girl somehow and she put a curse on him or something? If she did, I have to start calling her wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/_witch_/potentially-soulless-girl, and then I'd go kick her ass for cursing my kinda-almost-maybe boyfriend.

Edward has actually informed me that her name is Heather Johnson, but that sounded a bit too ordinary for me, so I secretly gave her a pagan name: Autumn Pixie Peace. I don't use it much, but it's easier to think than wanna-be-vamp/goth/emo/witch/potentially-soulless-girl.

"Alright, are you comfortable?" I ask as I adjust the covers around him.

"Yeah, I'm great, but Bella, you _really_ don-"

"Edward, please," I interrupt him, taking one of his fever-hot hands between mine. "I don't have anywhere else I need or want to be. You're sick – really sick – and I want to take care of you. I _want_ to make you feel better, in any way I can. So please..." I look him squarely in the eyes and squeeze his hand, "shut the fuck up and just lie there like a good little sick boy and let me do this for you."

Edward coughs out a laugh and nods, squeezing my hand back. "Okay, okay... no need for profanities."

I snicker. "I can't go even one day without uttering profanities – not very ladylike perhaps, but ladylike is overrated."

Edward snorts and nods sleepily. I lean forward and gently kiss his forehead before stepping back. "So, have you eaten or not? I make a mean chicken noodle soup."

Edward looks around his room for some reason, as if this will help him determine whether or not he's already eaten. "Uh... I had some yoghurt before."

I sigh and nod. "Alright, I'll go snoop around your kitchen for a while and run down to the store for the stuff I will need but that you definitely won't have." I hand him the TV remote. "Entertain yourself, please."

"Yes, ma'am," he croaks, saluting me.

An hour later, I have bought all sorts of make-Edward-feel-better-goodies (and also some make-not-only-Edward-feel-better-but-give-Bella-some-yummy-snacks-too-goodies) and we're in his bed, slurping chicken noodle soup and watching 'SpongeBob', because really – SpongeBob makes everything better.

I feed him one of my cupcakes when we're done with the soup and then he complains about how tired he is, so we cuddle up to watch more SpongeBob; him on his side with his head resting on my stomach and me sitting up against the headboard, gently running my hand through his hair.

I'm absolutely loving it.

Edward has his arms wrapped tightly around me, and he occasionally nuzzles his face into me, which is so freaking adorable I just about want to die. I rub his back when he shakes and hacks his way through violent coughing fits, the air making horrible rattling sounds in his lungs that I can almost feel against my hand.

He groans into my stomach. "This _sucks_..."

I laugh sympathetically under my breath. "I know; but aren't you glad I'm here to take care of you? Now you can complain to someone other than yourself."

Edward manages a exhausted chuckle. "Yeah, that's a plus." He pauses, contently sighing against me – his warm breath seeps through my shirt and sort of pools around my belly button. It feels awesome. "I'm really glad you're here, Bella," he whisper-croaks after a moment, tightening his hold on me.

The air stops in my throat at his words, and I look down at the top of his head as a gooey and warm emotion sweeps through my body. I grin uncontrollably.

"Me too," I promise him in a soft whisper, and a few minutes later, he's quietly snoring against me as I stroke his hair.

It's at this point that I decide that the sex can wait. I know it will be fucking amazing once it happens, because the dry-hump on Valentine's Day was pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to me, but I can be patient. I can wear my Power Undies and Amazing Bra some other time, and we'll eventually avoid getting cockblocked by his grandmother, and it will happen.

In the mean time, I'm going to enjoy moments like this – moments where I can play Head Nurse and not mean it in a pervy-way, moments where I can take care of Edward when he doesn't feel well, moments where we can just hang out and watch SpongeBob in his bed until he falls asleep on me. I can enjoy moments of just being with him.

I twirl a lock of his hair around my finger, feeling completely content and calm with that simple action – and if that doesn't say something about how Edward and mine's relationship might just be as _right_ as you can possibly get, I don't know what will.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Until next time, **

**xxx**

**/Victoria**


	4. The Mood Killers

**Chapter 4: The Mood Killers**

BPOV

"Alright, Edward… here you go."

"No."

"What? Yes."

"No, I don't want it."

"Edward, come on, it's not _tha_-"

"Yes, it _is_ that bad! I don't want it."

"Edward, seriously. You need to take it."

"You can't make me; I'm not a child."

"Well, stop fucking acting like one and take the damn cough medicine!"

I glare at him, holding out the dose that I know is freaking awful, but he needs it and I don't care if he doesn't want to take it, because I'm not backing down first.

I like to win.

He glares right back at me, defiant with his arms crossed over his chest and his nostrils are flaring rhythmically. He's so adorable.

And so sick. He can't even breath through his nose right now, so his lips are parted a little, and from time to time my eyes flicker down to take in the sight and the only thing that stops me from launching myself at him like a sex-depraved lunatic is the fact that he's basically a germ-infested pool.

I told him earlier that I would kiss him if not for the fact that gazillions of germs were having a pool party on his face. He didn't find it as amusing as I did.

But he is being _such a baby_. I mean, yeah, cough medicine is gross and all, but we still take it because we know it helps.

Edward didn't get that memo, apparently.

All-in-all, he's been a good patient today – after he took his little nap on my stomach, I made us a midday snack and we watched a movie.

It's just his damn cough that keeps getting worse and worse. It sounds horrible, all gurgly and rattling, kinda like Dementors, but with added snot. Getting him to take the medicine is proving impossible, but I'm not going to sit back and listen to him hack and wheeze his way through fresh rounds of coughing-fits every three minutes.

"Bella, I don't want it. Seriously, my cough isn't that ba-"

And then he's coughing until he's red in the face with tears running down his cheeks. I give him my best '_You were saying?'_-face as he collapses back against his headboard, completely exhausted as he tries to catch his breath. While panting heavily, he looks over at me with apprehension shining in his eyes. He is clearly not giving up.

I huff and shift on the bed until I'm kneeling next to him, trying to stare him down, all alpha-dog or something.

He just takes a deep breath and clamps his mouth shut, glaring right back.

"Edward..."

"Bella, seriously. I don't need it. I can just have tea or something. I'll be fine."

His voice breaks three times while he says this, and it's just getting more and more hoarse by the minute. Meanwhile, I'm just getting more and more pissed off by the second. I'm trying to help the dude, not feed him poison, but he's just so damn stubborn. No amounts of pleading or negotiations are going to help me here.

I realise that other, more devious, plans are needed.

I realise that I will have to break out my bra.

I can only hope this is going to work. I'm putting all my trust in Edward's propensity to stare at my boobs in awe when he sees them for my plan to be a success, because it's all I have and it's worth a shot.

Being careful to not tip the cough medicine and spill a single drop, I rise up on my knees and immediately straddle Edward's lap. His face transforms into a mask of complete confusion in the second it takes me to do this and he clearly has no idea what the hell I'm up to, which is of course exactly what I'm counting on.

In the same movement, before my knees have even settled on either side of his legs, I reach down with my free hand and pull my shirt up.

His eyes almost bug out of his head as I flash him my tits and he seems mesmerised. His mouth drops open in shock and I seize this golden opportunity.

Quicker than should be humanly possible, I pour the cough medicine into his open mouth. He barely has time to react before I throw the dose-cup over my shoulder and clamp one hand over his lips, dropping my shirt to free my other hand. I use it to plug his nose shut – although, honestly, he's so stuffy that I probably don't even need to do this – and then I crash my body against his chest in an effort to restrain him.

Muffled noises of protest rise out his mouth as he desperately tries to fight me off, his panicked eyes locking on mine. Normally he could probably throw me off him effortlessly, but he's so weak with fever he can barely go to the bathroom without his knees wobbling. I choose to ignore this though so that I can pretend that I'm a super-strong girl that can easily hold down a guy of Edward's size.

We struggle together for a few seconds before he starts turning red in the face from lack of air. He growls against my hand as he realises that he's losing the fight, but he's still grabbing at me, trying to force me off him. I glare at him, clenching my teeth as I hold him down.

He is just so fucking stubborn.

"Just swallow it, Edward! If I can swallow jizz, you can swallow some fucking bubblegum-flavoured medicine!"

He freezes completely, and his eyes do that bugging-out-of-his-head-thing again as he stares at me. I think it's more the shock of my words, rather than his growing need for air, that makes him finally swallow and I release him as I sit back.

We're both breathing heavily now, but I feel satisfied with what I managed to accomplish. My plan was a complete success. I'm so proud of myself.

I expect him to say something reproachful, like '_That was mean, Bella!'_ or '_God, Bella, that was childish and completely uncalled for!_' so what he actually says shocks the shit out of me.

"You swallow?" His eyes are wide, his eyebrows are almost shooting off his forehead and his jaw is slack.

"Swallow what?" I say, acting dumb because I really want to hear him say 'jizz' or 'blow-job' or 'sucking dick' or something else really dirty. My brain would thank me for days.

"Yo-you said... I mean, you... just a few seconds ago, you-... About... you know, about s-swallowing, uhm... you know... j-jizz?"

_Yes.  
_

I smirk. Edward's mouth moves up and down soundlessly as his brain no doubt overloads with mental images.

Then, because I am so conveniently settled on his lap, I feel it. I have the privilege of feeling Edward slowly bulging up in his pyjama pants.

We both freeze, our breathing hitching. I unconsciously shift closer to him and The Hard One.

We look up at each other. What to do now? I mean, yeah, I could totally go for some crazy-hot and wild humping right about now, because that's the whole reason I even came over here today, but the poor guy has a fever and he's snotty and gross and sick and I don't want to kiss his germy pool-party face right now.

So maybe the_ smartest_ thing to do would be to climb off his lap and let his woody deflate until another time.

That would be the smartest thing to do. Doesn't mean I'm going to do it.

A strangled groan leaves him as I move my hips experimentally. I stop moving. He gently grabs my waist as he licks his lips, his eyes slowly travelling the expanse of my body. There's a speculative gleam in his eyes that I find... intriguing.

"Should...? I mean... ca-can we?" he asks, looking down at my tits which are helpfully right in his face.

"I-... well, I don't know; I mean, you're sick... but... maybe?" I half shrug, scrunching up my face in what I am sure is a super-attractive expression.

Edward bites his lip as he slowly starts squeezing and releasing my waist. I allow my hands the pleasure of sliding up his chest until they're resting on his shoulders. My brain is telling me to climb off the pretty boy and his boner, because he is sick and weak and snotty, and he should be avoiding physical activity right now.

I lift a hand and put it against his forehead; his skin is burning badly, and he seems to realise this as our eyes meet. However, he is a guy who's been perpetually cockblocked for a month straight, and now he finally has the girl he wants sitting on his lap, ready and willing to deal with his boner – he's not giving up that easily.

He gives me that crooked smirk of his, and I can't help it - I swoon.

"You know, some people say that the best way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it out..." he trails of suggestively, shifting his hips up into me.

I gasp in surprise at his unexpected move and my hand travels up from his forehead and into the soft strands of his hair – it tickles pleasurably as the locks glide between my fingers and Edward closes his eyes for a blissful second.

"And how do you suggest we 'sweat it out'?"

Edward purses his lips, and he looks so sexy, but just as he's about to answer he has to cough a little, ruining the effect. We both pretend it didn't happen. I'm in the _mood_ and there's not a lot that will take me out of it at this point.

"I'm sure we can figure something out," he croaks as his hands slide down to firmly grab my ass, which is more thrilling for me than it really should be. No, seriously – it feels like fireworks are going off on my butt cheeks. Damn, I love his hands.

I do the human version of purring as I wiggle on his lap, pressing myself closer. Edward's amazingly long, sexy fingers tighten their hold and I lean in to kiss his germy pool-party face.

I'm only a few inches away from his lips when Edward suddenly goes rigid and his eyes open up wide. He draws in a quick gasp and I recognise the signs immediately. I pull away from him as fast as humanly possible, throwing myself off his lap, and just barely avoid being showered in a thin mist of snot and saliva as Edward sneezes vehemently.

"Ogrh gawd, I'mb so sawry!" he apologies into the crook of his arm, his stuffy nose completely distorting his voice. He grabs a tissue from the nightstand and tries to discretely blow his nose. He sounds a bit like an elephant doing it though, so yeah – discrete fail on his part.

And... I'm officially out of the _mood_.

When he's done de-snotting his nostrils, he dejectedly leans his head back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. I fiddle with my fingers.

"I just totally ruined the mood, didn't I?"

"Yeah, kinda."

His head rolls to the side so he can look at me, and we smile regretfully at each other.

"I _will_ get into your pants one day soon," he vows ceremoniously, nodding with determination.

"Let's just hope your grandmother doesn't call again."

"Or that you don't start bleeding from your nose."

"Or that you don't sneeze on me."

"Or that our work schedules aren't all messed up."

"Or that we don't drown ourselves in tequila and jello-shots to the point where we pass out."

He snorts in agreement. "Yeah, that was pretty bad."

"At least you managed to get most of your clothes off. I think my attention span diminishes to about three seconds per action when I'm that drunk – I never seem to finish what I start."

"Like what?"

"Well, like with my clothes – I started with my skirt, but pulled it up instead of down, and then I suddenly changed my mind and attempted to pull my shirt off. Then I passed out."

Edward starts giggling. "If not for the fact that I was hellishly hung-over, waking up to the sight of you looking like that would've been in my top three Favourite Mornings, ever."

I stick my tongue out at him. "And you didn't even take advantage of me – you call yourself a guy?" I say sarcastically.

In answer, Edward simply cocks his head down to his crotch.

"I'm pretty sure that makes me a guy," he smirks smugly.

I shrug in agreement, because the dude's right. I know _exactly_ how much of a guy The Hard One makes him.

"I was just raised with manners; taught to always respect women," he continues, smiling when I chuckle. Then his face abruptly turns serious. "Bella, can I see your bra again?"

I gape at him for a few seconds before slapping at his arm. "I thought you just said you were raised with manners and taught to always respect women! Obviously you were a very thick-headed child who never listened, because asking someone if you can see their bra isn't polite or respectful."

I may be chastising him for asking such a question, but inwardly I am glowing. Awesome Bra clearly worked its magic on him before, and he probably wants to marry it or something.

"Okay, okay, fine. Bella, can I see your bra again, _please?_"

"No!"

"Oh, come on, why not?"

"B-because!"

"You showed it to me before! And that barely counts, because it was in an act of devious manipulation and then you manhandled me. I'm a sick man! You don't manipulate and manhandle sick men and force them to drink cough medicine."

"'It hardly counts'? Counts to what?"

_Damn, I thought I had distracted him enough to make him completely forget I force-fed him the cough syrup from hell. Apparently not_.

"Counts to the number of times I get to see your boobs, obviously."

"You're keeping count?"

He sighs in exasperation. "No, I am not keeping count, Bella – I'm not a dork."

"You could've fooled me."

He pokes me, making me squeal like a piglet.

"Show me your boobs, woman! It shall be your punishment for manipulating me and forcing that vile concoction down my throat whilst I was dazzled by your lady humps."

At this I collapse in giggles, burying my face into his pillow as I bray with laughter. I inhale deeply, preparing my lungs for another 30 seconds of uncontrollable giggles, but instantly realise I've shoved my nose into an inanimate object saturated with Smell of Edward. I may moan a little as I start gulping down his scent – inconspicuously, of course – and I wonder what it will take for Edward to give me this pillow so I can take it home and put it in my own bed, so that I can sniff it all night long.

_Maybe if I show him my boobs?_

I push myself up into a sitting position again, still intermittently giggling and wiping a few tears from my eyes.

"If I show you my boobs, what will I get in return?"

"The pleasure of me ogling them for several minutes."

"Ah, I see."

He stares at me for a few seconds, expectantly. "Well?"

I pretend to think about it for a while. "Uhm... no."

"What? Why not?"

"Because you already saw them once today."

He makes a growly kind of sound at me, and that speculative gleam that I found so intriguing before returns with a vengeance.

I shriek as he wraps his arms around me and flings me down sideways on the bed. There's a lot of shuffling and adjustments before I moan appreciatively, because Edward is now on top of me and I'm _all_ for that. I wiggle my hips with happiness, making him groan.

I think I'm definitely getting back into the mood now. I mean, Edward is on top of me, groaning and shifting and his woody is making a re-appearance – how can I not be in the mood?

He smirks down at me, waggling his eyebrows a little, so I giggle because he looks funny. He opens his mouth to say something, hopefully something dirty and pervy and lewd.

But, as is becoming almost ritual with us now, he's interrupted by a loud banging on the front door, followed instantly by a bellowing voice.

"_Open up, fuckface! We need to get to work!_"

"Shit...!" Edward curses under his breath, his head snapping up to look at the clock on his bedside table. "Shit!"

"What? Who is that?" I ask, craning my neck towards the source of the banging.

"_Masen! Let go of your dick and put your fucking pants on. We need to go!_"

Edward groans. "I'm sorry, I work with him – I forgot that he was supposed to pick me up today for our shift, and I didn't call him to let him know I'm sick."

He moves off me as he speaks, which makes me pout in unreasonable sadness. It's not like we can just ignore Really Loud Guy Edward Works With and keep doing whatever the hell we were doing, but I don't care about logic.

I clamber off the bed to follow Edward down the hallway.

"Give it a rest, Cullen!" Edward admonishes as loudly as he can get his hoarse voice to go as he unlocks the door. I peer around him to get a look at RLGEWW.

His hand is raised and poised in the air, clearly mid-banging. The first thing I notice is the elaborate tattoo sleeves on both his arms. The second thing I notice is that he is unbelievably fucking hot.

Not as hot as Edward, obviously, but damn near close. What the fuck is up with that? _Two_ hot guys working at the same drugstore? I wonder if his boss is a lady-perv who enjoys her man candy and only hires really hot guys, with the obligatory girl in the form Autumn Pixie Peace, aka Wanna-be vamp/goth/emo/witch/potentially-soulless-girl, thrown in to avoid suspicion.

RLGEWW, or Cullen as Edward called him, blinks in confusion when he sees Edward still wearing his pyjamas. His blue eyes swivel from him to me, and his eyebrows immediately rise in surprise.

"What the fuck, Masen – you with a girl and you still open the door? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Edward sighs in frustration. "I'm sick, Cullen. I forgot to call you, I'm sorry. I'm not going into work today."

RLGEWW takes a step back, holding his hands up in front of him. "Dude, do _not_ get me sick! I finally got Esme to go out with me tomorrow and I'll fucking kill you if I have to cancel on her just because you fucking sneezed on me or something."

Edward's head drops down to his chest and he takes a deep breath, seemingly to fortify himself. He probably is pretty tired of people telling him not to sneeze on them at this point. "As I said, I'm not going to work today, so you can leave before I sneeze on you."

RLGEWW nods as his eyes flicker over to me. He quirks a quizzical eyebrow, giving Edward a meaningful look. "Gonna introduce me to your lady-friend before I leave?"

Edward turns to me, waving a hand at RLGEWW. "Bella, this is Carlisle Cullen. Cullen, this is Bella."

I step forward a little and smile at the dude. Wow. Weird name.

"Ah, Bella – yeah, I figured as much, what with Masen talking about you so often and his inability to get a date. No way would he have two girls going at the same time."

Edward glares at him, giving him the universal face for 'shut the hell up.'

"I thought you had to leave?"

Carlisle shrugs. "Nah, no rush," he says before looking back at me and smiling. I blink a few times, because... _dayum, he is fine!_

He looks to be our age, and his features would perhaps perfectly define the kind of guy you take home to meet your mother, or whatever the hell that saying is, if not for a certain air of danger around him. His hair is blonde and shiny, but he obviously doesn't give a shit what it looks like.

He has those stretchy-lobe piercings in his ears, black plugs adorned with wickedly cool skulls.

And then of course there are the tattoos, covering almost every inch of skin on both his arms.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward's head moving as he looks first at Carlisle, then at me, then back at Carlisle and then back at me. He takes a step back in my direction when I continue to stare at Carlisle, as if to shield me from his hotness or something.

_Oh, silly boy, you don't have to stake your claim on me – this tattooed man-god may be gorgeous, but you're _you_ and if he, on a scale of 1-10 of hotness, is an 11, you're like a 73._

"So, Carlisle, huh? That's an interesting name."

He grimaces and rakes his hand through his hair. "It's a stupid fucking name," he chuckles. "My parents were most likely high when they named me; I was apparently conceived in the town of Carlisle, in England, and they thought it would be an amazingly cool idea to call me that, so as to always be reminded of the time they fucked me into existence."

_Oh, wow, okay then_.

"Dude..." Edward says, shaking his head slowly.

"What?" Carlisle says.

"Just..." Edward waves his hand around a little, before sighing in resignation. "Never mind. But you really do need to leave for work now."

He glances down at his watch and hisses. "Shit, yeah, you're right. Call me next time you're not going to carpool, you dickhead. Bella, it was nice to meet you."

He, for some reason, salutes us before turning on his heel and walking away from the door, his black combat boots clunking against the floor.

Well, at least it was a new kind of cockblocking, and an interesting one at that.

Edward pushes the door closed, clicking the lock into place before leaning back against the wood. He looks tired.

"So yeah... that was Cullen."

I nod, clasping my hands behind my back. "He's, uh... well, he's somethin'."

Edward starts to chuckle, but it turns into a rather harsh coughing fit. He groans when it's over, slumping back against the door and closing his eyes.

I step in front of him, rubbing his arms sympathetically.

"Hey, why don't you go take a little nap or something while I make us some dinner?"

He hums in agreement as his heavy eyelids slowly open, revealing the pretty green hiding beneath.

_So, so pretty_.

"When I'm healthy again," he says while pushing off the door, "I'm taking you out as a thank-you for taking care of me today."

I smile at him and shake my head. "You don't need to do that, Edward."

"I know," he says, smirking a little, "but I want to."

I study his expression for a few seconds.

"You're just hoping you'll get to see my bra again."

"_You're_ just hoping I'll get to see your bra again."

_Ah, yes, he got me there_.

"Well, fair's fair – if you get to see my bra, I wanna see your boner."

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "How is that fair?"

"Well, you don't have boobs, do you? So, naturally, you're going to have to whip out Mini-Masen."

Edward's brow furrows in confusion, and it looks like he's going to argue with me – possibly about the 'Mini-Masen' thing – so I lean in and whisper in my most husky voice.

"Besides, if I see your boner, chances are I'll most definitely touch it too."

I then smack his ass and make my way over to the kitchen without another word, smugness radiating off me in waves.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**Until next time. **

**xxxxx**

**/Victoria**


	5. The Drunk Dress

**Chapter 5: The Drunk Dress **

BPOV

"Alice? Which one of these dresses say 'I need to have sex tonight' more?"

I stand in the doorway to her bedroom, holding up two dresses, awaiting her judgement. She looks up from painting her nails and cocks her head to the side. I lift the dresses up a little higher, so as to better facilitate her evaluation.

After a moment, she speaks. "I'd go with the purple one. Most cleavage. It's like, 'look at my boobs', which is basically what you're going for here."

She returns to painting her nails as I look at the other dress in my hands. I've never actually had the balls to wear it before – I bought it while shopping with Alice, and we were both drunk which impaired my judgement a bit.

What? It was St. Patrick's Day. At least the dress isn't green.

I vaguely remember Alice saying something about Marilyn Monroe, wind blowing up my ass-cheeks and looking hot while going '_oh!_'.

Clearly, that was all the incentive I needed to try it on in the first place.

I can wear this dress, right? I mean, when Edward sees me, I'm want him to like... gape at me. I really want to make that 'I need to have sex tonight' statement crystal clear, and I probably will if I were the dress.

But... just thinking about wearing this makes me nervous. I look back at Alice, beseechingly.

"Alice, can I really wear this? I won't look ridiculous, right? I mean, I've only ever worn it when I was actually trying it on in the store, and I was drunk so maybe my judgement isn't all tha-"

"Bella," she interrupts me with a look that borders on boredom, which I personally find slightly rude, "what are you and Edward doing tonight?"

I frown at her, because her tone of voice tells me she thinks I'm stupid.

"We're going out to some fancy-ass place for dinner and then drinks and dancing. So?"

"And when you wore that dress – drunk – did you not profess yourself 'the hottest piece of ass _ever_!'?"

I have a vague memory of this. "I don't know – I was drunk at the time, it's all relatively fuzzy."

"Right, well I remember that particular moment quite well and your confidence when you wore that dress was fucking ridonk. So, let's summarize, shall we?"

"Uh, ye-"

"First," she interrupts me for the second time, "you're going out _drinking_. Second, you want to look like 'the hottest piece of ass _ever_!' so that your chances of getting into Edward's pants tonight are as high as possible. Thirdly, the one time you wore that dress you had been _drinking_ and you then thought you looked like 'the hottest piece of ass _ever_!'. Ergo, since you'll be drinking tonight too, don't you think this image of yourself will most likely manifest itself in you again?"

She looks at me, patiently waiting while I solve the puzzle she just presented me with.

"So, what you're saying is... since I will be at least somewhat drunk later tonight, I will eventually think I look amazing in this dress, therefore I should wear it?"

She smiles angelically at me. "Precisely."

I look at my pea-sized friend with satisfaction. "Your version of logic is diabolically brilliant, Miss Brandon."

"I know," she giggles, swiping the brush across a final nail.

"So when's Jasper coming over?" I ask, because I want to know how much longer I can reasonably run around the apartment in only my bathrobe.

"He should be here like 10 minutes or something."

"And, uh... he's _definitely_ staying here until tomorrow?"

Alice snickers as she rises from her bed. She throws me an amused look as she walks over to her shrine of beauty products – as in, glorified desk filled with girl-crap – to deposit her nail polish in its rightful place.

"Yes, Bella. Jasper will stay here until tomorrow so that his and Edward's apartment will be empty when you two go back there after your date." She pauses to giggle. "I love how we're all so committed to ending the Curse of the Epic Cockblock for you two. Seriously, I have never been this involved with making sure a friend of mine gets laid before."

"Yeah, well, let's just hope it works this time. I seriously _need_ sex with Edward tonight."

"Yeah, _I_ need you to have sex, too. Your sleep-moaning gets progressively louder every fucking night."

My cheeks explode in sudden flames of mortification as I hiss out a "Shut up!" and leave the room.

Alice's cackle follows after me like an annoying bug.

"_Oooh, Edward! Edwaaaaaaard!_" she moans loudly.

"I do not sound like that!" I screech indignantly. I know this is a lie – it wouldn't surprise me at all if I actually said those things in my sleep, because let's be honest here: Edward has been the leading actors in almost all of my dreams as of late. However, that doesn't mean I want Alice to mock me with them.

"_Oh, Edward, yes... YES! Edward, oh god...!_"

"Shut up, Alice!"

She laughs hysterically. "_Edwaaaaaaaaard, oh god, YES! Oh!_"

My nostrils flare and my cheeks continue to burn like campfires with embarrassment and anger. Or well, not so much anger, as I'm-so-fucking-embarrased-I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-pissed-beyond-belief-to-make-it-easier-on-myself-ness.

I stand in the hallway as Alice continues to moan and pant and have a fucking blast at my expense. I glare at the doorway, but since she can't actually see me, the action is pretty useless.

How awesome would it be if I could just develop superpowers right this minute and shoot lasers from my eyes? Then I could just... blast a really big hole through her wall.

_Time to fight fire with fire_.

"Oooh, Jasper!" I moan loudly, in a stupid voice too, just because I know that will piss her off more. "_Jaaaaaasper! Oh god, Jaaaaspeeer!_"

I do a silent dance of victory as my retaliation makes Alice shut up instantly. I swear, I can almost see waves of black anger emanating from her room.

Serves her right, the tiny little pain in my ass.

"_Yes, Jasper, fuck me! Yes, just like that! Oh, god!_" I croon and mock her much louder than is absolutely necessary before bringing out my pièce de résistance. "_Ooh, Jazz-man!_"

I've only heard Alice scream this once – they were, unfortunately, not aware that I was home. It's a little gem I have been saving for the perfect opportunity, which just presented itself here.

Alice gasps, and it's a huge, horrified gasp that like echoes into the hallway. It's actually a super awesome gasp, as far as gasps go.

"Jaaaaaaaspeeeer! YES! Oh god, Jaspe-"

"Yes?"

I shriek, in a super-high pitched voice. I turn around so fast that I lose my balance and crash into the wall next to me.

Standing in front of me, is Jazz-man, looking... well, he doesn't exactly look amused.

"Jesus fucking christ!" I exclaim, clutching at my chest. "What the hell are you doing here? How the fuck did you get in?"

Man, he scared the crap out of me.

"Alice gave me a key," he answers, just as she jumps out of her room and runs down the hallway towards him.

I stare at her retreating back. "Alice! You gave Jasper a key to _our_ apartment without at least telling me first?"

"What are you talking about? I did tell you – at that awesome party, remember?" she says, looking at me with a worried frown. I kind of resent her worried-frownyness, as it implies that she thinks something is wrong with me.

Then again, there is most likely something wrong with me, but not in the sense that her frowny-face is implying. I don't think.

"You mean, the awesome party where Edward and I drank ourselves into oblivion and then I passed out?" I ask snarkily. "Do I remember that? Uh... no."

She laughs joyously, wrapping herself around Jazz-man. "Oh, right. Yeah, I guess you wouldn't." She gives Jazz-man a small shove on his arm and as if they have some weird brain-to-brain connection going on where they instantly know what the other one wants, he raises his hand, clutching the key between his fingers. "I gave Jasper a key to our apartment! Isn't that great?"

I stare blankly at her as I respond with an unenthusiastic "_Yay_."

She rolls her eyes at me as she begins to drag Jazz-man with her back to her room. "Shouldn't you be getting ready now, by the way? Edward will be here soon."

"I am getting ready! Or I was, until you distracted me with your diabolical logic and sex-moan-mocking!"

Jazz-man looks confused. "Sex-moans?"

I ignore him, leaving that to Alice to explain as I rush back to my room.

The second I slide my foot into my shoes, there's a knock at the door. I get not-butterflies – because they freak me out – in my stomach as I rush out of my room as fast as my heels can take me. I'm already grinning in anticipation of seeing Edward's stunning face and watching his reaction to me in this dress.

I'm hoping for dropping jaw, roaming eyes stripping me naked in his mind and a swelling in his pants.

I fling the door open with unbridled enthusiasm and there he is; Edward, looking so goddamn hot I honestly can't breathe for a few seconds.

Dressy pants and shirts agree with him. A lot. Like, _a lot_, a lot.

The expression on his face is priceless. It's brilliant. It's amazing and, best of all, it's exactly what I wanted.

He's staring at me, slack-jawed, with his eyes trained firmly on my chest.

"Hi," I breathe out, all girly and ridiculous.

"Hey," he says, blinking. He shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm going to need a minute here."

"You're such a dork. Come in, I just need to grab my purse."

He hums and grabs my waist; I look up at him, surprised, but he doesn't lift his eyes. He walks us backwards into the apartment.

"What are you doing?"

"Coming in. I just didn't want you to turn around yet."

"Oh my god."

"I know," he says emphatically, actually biting his lip.

I laugh and slap his hands away. He bends down and kisses my cheek.

"You look amazing. In case you didn't get that from my drooling."

"Thanks," I say, small splashes of heat hitting my cheeks as I smile. "You look pretty good yourself."

He fingers a button on his shirt. "Yeah, I tried wearing my t-shirt from summer camp ten years ago, but Jasper wouldn't let me."

"Good call."

"I don't know. I think the t-shirt would've impressed you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I went to Camp Beaver Dive."

I stare at him.

"No, you didn't."

He smirks. "I did, I swear."

"Okay, I'm going to need to see this shirt."

"That can be arranged."

"Good. Why was it called Beaver Dive?"

"There were a lot of beavers around." His smirk grows.

I pause. "I don't know if you're being serious or gross."

"Why can't I be both?"

"Are you?"

"Probably."

"You're a very... strange man, sometimes."

"I know. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, just need my purse. I'll be right back."

I left him standing in the hallway. When I reach my room, I turn to look at him over my shoulder, only to find him crouched down, left elbow resting on his knee and head propped up in his hand. His jaw hangs open, and he's staring at me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Admiring your ass. This is a better angle."

I'm still laughing as I gather up my things. I think this dress might be magic.

I look at myself in the mirror one last time. My cheeks are flushed, and I can't seem to get this smile off my face. I think about Edward waiting in the hallway for me. The smile just grows.

Yeah, pretty sure I'll be getting laid tonight.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, you guys.  
**

**/Vic**


	6. The Shots

**Chapter 6: The Shots**

BPOV

"Do you want a drink?"

Edward leans closer to me, shouting slightly over the loud music. He's taken me to some club, and even though I've only been here for like 20 seconds or something, I'm already loving it. I breathe in the air, with its familiar sweet scent from the fog machines and too much perfume and look out over the dance floor. I love dancing, but only when I'm slightly – or very, either one – drunk. I'm not one of those people who likes sitting around drinking and shit. If you give me booze, I wanna move around. I want to _dance_ and have fun.

But, only when I'm drunk. I do not dance sober. Or well, I might be persuaded to go to the dance floor, but I'll just stand there, lamely swinging my arms back and forth and wishing for an escape.

"Yeah, thanks," I yell back and he leads me over to the bar. His arm is holding me in a possessive, awesomely hot way, with his hand resting on that magical place between my hip and my ass. Since I want to be in a magical place too, I walk as close to him as I physically can without running the risk of introducing our faces to the floor.

We squeeze – or well, Edward tries to politely find a way through while I choose the more effective route of pushing – our way through the small crowd of people congregated at the Place With All The Booze, like gazelles at a Vodka-hole. Ironically, there are a few mangy lions standing around – in the form of horny, half-drunk men – waiting for the opportune moment to ambush their unsuspecting gazelle of choice – in the form of horny, half-naked girls.

_Okay, I really need to stop watching Animal Planet before going out on dates_.

"What do you want?" Edward asks me, but instead of yelling he leans in and puts his mouth right over my ear, which is so much better.

I turn my head slowly towards him, so that my lips brush against his chin. His mouth falls open slightly, and I smirk.

"Tequila," I say against his skin, my lips tingling from the stubble on his face.

"Tequila, huh?" he asks, cocking an amused eyebrow at me. I pull back just enough to see his expression and now he's the one smirking.

"Yes, tequila," I answer, subtly shifting my weight from one foot to the other, effectively pressing myself closer to his body, which is just ace. "It's fun and it's fast."

Edward's smirk grows wider and I'm pretty sure he chuckles quietly, but the music in here is freaking loud and a group of girls behind me just started laughing.

_Would it be too obvious to compare them to hyenas, given my random affinity for safari-type animals tonight?_

"Tequila it is..." Edward muses with his amused smirk. He graces me with that expression for a few more seconds as he looks at me, before he turns to the bar and orders our drinks.

Edward hands me the small salt shaker without looking at me; he is concentrated on lining up our shots. I take it from him, making sure to brush my fingers against his slowly, just because I can. He doesn't look up or startles at our touch; instead a pleased grin spreads on his face.

I find this smile of his incredibly sexy. I want to do him on the top of this bar.

I take a deep breath, willing my girly parts to not give my brain ideas like that, because after a shot or two of tequila, I might just implement them with no regard to the gazelles and mangy lions watching.

I have a brief mental image of the crowd cheering us on as I ride Edward on the bar top.

_Yeah, that probably shouldn't turn me on as much as it just did. _

I snatch a lime wedge as a distraction and to keep both my hands busy so that I don't grab Edward and start stripping him naked. As much as I'd like to see him sans clothes, I do have some reservations about him being in a state of undress in public.

Plus, I don't think Edward would appreciate it very much if I got him arrested for indecent exposure.

He looks up at me just as I raise my hand to my mouth to lick it. Our eyes inadvertently lock as my tongue sweeps across my skin, right above that weird fleshly place between your thumb and forefinger. I didn't mean for my licking to be anything but licking – for one small second, it was only about making salt stick to my skin, honestly – but then he had to look up at me right as I started doing it.

Suddenly we are both thinking about sex. I just know it – I can see in his eyes how he's thinking dirty things, probably about my tongue.

My breathing is getting shallow and heavy. I slowly lower my hand from my mouth, still staring into Edward's eyes. I'm pretty sure he's eyefucking me right now, or I'm eyefucking him, or hopefully we're both eyefucking each other, which is just all sorts of awesome.

How long do I go on possibly-eyefucking him? I have no freaking clue, because Edward has this magical ability to make me forget time and place, like his eyes transport you to Neverland. I manage to rip my eyes away from his, raising the salt shaker – which is, funnily enough, now shaking in my trembling hand – to pour it onto my hand.

Edward's long, amazingly sexy fingers come into my field of vision as he reaches for the salt shaker. He deliberately touches my skin as he takes it from me and I gasp from the warmth that I feel, searing up my arm and blooming through my bloodstream.

The warmth bypasses pretty much every other part of my body and shoots directly down between my legs.

Edward watches me closely as he raises his hand and slowly licks his own skin, but the difference this time is that I'm not staring into his eyes. I'm watching his tongue come out between his lips – lips that I know the exact taste, texture and shape of – and trail a wet line on his hand.

I believe I may have just whimpered out loud. At the very least, I moaned.

He salts his hand haphazardly, as he is staring at me and not the damn salt shaker, so I'm pretty sure some of it spilled on the floor, but I don't fucking care because Edward is looking at me and it is so freaking hot I can barely think straight.

"Shall we?" His voice is almost overpowered by the loud music, but I'm feeling so damn in tune with him right now that we could have been standing in a completely empty room for all I knew. He inclines his head towards our shots and I swallow down a hard gulp and nod.

He reaches for a lime wedge as I grab my shot. I wait until he has all the necessary things in order before raising my glass in a silent salute. Our eyes hold the blazing connection with each other as long as possible as we first lick the salt from our hands and then throw back the shots in sync. I shudder as the burning liquid douses my oesophagus, emitting an attractive "uugghhrrr!" sound and shaking my head. I bite into the lime wedge, washing my mouth clean of the tequila-flames.

"Jesus motherfucking christ," Edward declares, slamming his glass down on the bar along with the lime rind.

Edward turns to look at me, and I stare back. I _really_ want to fuck him on the bar now.

"Another?" His voice is dark, deep, husky, sexy and all kinds of other hot adjectives. It renders me incapable of speech, so I just nod.

With new shots and fresh limes placed on the bar in front of us, I'm just about to reach for the salt shaker when Edward suddenly grabs my hand.I look up at him in surprise, which quickly melts away to leave only pure hornyness.

He holds my gaze as he raises my hand to his mouth and licks it. I gasp as his tongue connects with my skin. It causes a chain reaction of goosebumps, shivers and rock hard nipples. Edward probably sees this, because now he's smirking and I really kinda wish he wouldn't do that, because my knees actually bent _just tiny little bit_ in preparation of jumping onto him.

He pours salt on my hand and then makes me pinch a lime between my thumb and finger. At this point I am simply staring at him blankly. Is he going to...?

He smirks again as he takes one of the shot glasses in one hand while wrapping his long, amazingly sexy fingers around my wrist.

And then he motherfucking does it.

He slowly closes his lips around the salt on my skin in an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue coming out to lap it up. I, honest to god, groan out loud as he pulls away to pour the shot down his throat. He tugs on my wrist, bringing the lime in my hand up to his mouth where he bites into it with deliberate slowness. He's looking at me as his teeth sink in and I can't fucking breathe.

_I'm dead now, right? This can't possibly happen in real life_.

"Your turn," is all he says as he slowly releases me, throwing the lime onto the bar with the other two discarded mouth-cleansers.

It takes me about 0.2 seconds to react to his command, and yes, it was a command and it was freaking hot as hell. Apparently my girly parts like being commanded. Who knew?

I take his hand and copy him, licking his skin as I look into his eyes. They're dark with lust now and my heart is pounding faster than the beat of the music.

I pour a small heap of salt onto his hand and then reach for a lime wedge. Then I hesitate. I can either put it between his fingers like he did to me, or I can do what I really want. What I really want would be so much fucking hotter and much more fun, but I don't know if I'm brave enough to do it.

I look up at him through my lashes. His lips are parted, he's breathing heavily and fast, and his eyes are burning into mine. The look in his eyes seals the deal for me, and instead of placing the lime between his fingers, I slowly reach up and hold it just within reach of his mouth.

His eyebrows rise at my move, but he smirks a little before taking the fruit between his teeth, holding it for me gently.

_Oh my god, I'm really going to do this, aren't I?_

Before I lose my nerve completely, I lick the salt slowly from his skin and down the shot quickly, ignoring the burn in favour of slamming the tiny glass on the bar and grabbing Edward around the neck. I pull him down closer to me, eyes still locked on each other. It sounds like a groan leaves his throat just as I feel his hands grab my waist. I lean into him and sink my teeth into the fruit, feeling the juices burst into my mouth and sending my tastebuds into a tingling frenzy. Combined with the sensation of Edward's soft lips against my own and the heat of his hands searing through my skin as if he just marked me, I'm pretty fucking sure I died and went to heaven.

I suck as much uice from the lime as I can, both loving and hating its presence between our mouths. Loving it because it's erotic and hot, and I am so proud of myself for having the balls to go through with this, but at the same time hating it because it's in the_ way_.

Edward solves the problem for us easily. Clearly my mind really isn't aboard the Logic Train, headed into Cleverville, because as Edward raises his hand and pulls back from our almost-kiss just enough to remove the rind, I realise I never even thought of doing that myself.

Edward makes me stupid. I'm gonna start blaming him whenever I say or do something inane in the future.

I have no idea what Edward does with the lime. I suppose he throws it somewhere – and here I am distracted for one millisecond with a _hilarious_ mental image of Edward absentmindedly throwing it over his shoulder and then it hits some dude in the face before dropping down into his beer glass – but I really, _really_, don't care what the fuck he does with it, because as soon as it's no longer obstructing our kiss he crashes his lips back against mine and I collapse into him.

No, seriously, I literally collapse into him as my knees buckle. Thank Jesus that he was already gripping my waist, because otherwise my earlier precautions and desires to not end up on a first-name basis with the floor would have been in vain.

Fresh Edward Lime is officially my new favourite flavour, ever.

He's considerate enough to not stop kissing me as he gently helps me back on my wobbly feet, wrapping his arms firmly – and I suspect also as a precaution against further crumbles – around me, pressing our bodies together at every point possible. It's so warm, and there are tingles and imaginary champagne-bubbles rocketing through my blood, rushing up and down every limb, nourishing every muscle and fuelling the furiously hard beats of my heart. I feel like I should, by all rights, be floating off the floor.

I moan against his mouth, sucking and biting on his lips, and I just can't stop kissing and touching him. Precious little oxygen is getting into my lungs, but I can't muster up enough reasons why that should necessitate stopping right now.

Our kisses turn slow and lazy, and some of the constant urgency I've felt around Edward lately seems to evaporate into the air, as we stand by The Place With All The Booze. This cockblocking thing has made me so antsy, so anxious and eager, so impatient for something to happen. I think I've always felt like there was that morbid, proverbial axe hanging over our heads – or our beds, to be specific – and at any moment while making out with Edward, in some small part of the crazy-place I call a brain, I've been waiting for it to fall.

But now it just feels right. It feels like the stars have aligned, the puzzle has solved itself, the lost key has been found under the cat – everything is just falling into place. It _will_ happen tonight. There is no question.

Edward slowly pulls away from me, making me pout uncontrollably. He squeezes me tightly against him and bends down to speak into my ear.

"Come on, I think we're blocking the bar. Wanna dance?"

Instead of answering, I kiss his chin and weave our fingers together, pulling him with me as I go.

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys.

Until next time,

Victoria


	7. The Hump Gods

**... and continue...**

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Humping Gods**

BPOV

If I thought doing tequila shots with Edward was a huge turn-on, dancing with Edward is just... _gah_.

Seriously. It's _gah_.

The boy knows how to move. He's not one of those drooling Neanderthals who consider it dancing when they stand behind you and attempt to fornicate with your ass through your clothes. No, Edward _knows_ how to _move_, and he knows how to move me too. He guides us through every single song as his hands glide over my body, grasping my hips and making them do impossible things pressed against his.

The club is hot and stifling. Sweaty, heaving bodies press us willingly closer to each other. His hips swivel, his hands caress and squeeze, his feet encourage mine to move to the beat as it pulses through my chest. His mouth frequently pays visits to my ears and neck, sometimes grazing my jaw and sending shivers erupting over my skin.

It makes it really difficult for me to concentrate on things besides the pulsing heat I feel at every single point where his body touches mine. I'm also just a teeny-tiny bit drunk, which doesn't really help matters in the brain area.

Edward moves one of his legs in between mine. I know this move. I approve of this move. I lean in and kiss his neck to show him exactly how much I appreciate it.

I am so freaking horny right now it's not even funny.

I don't know how long we've been at the club now, or how long we've been dancing. I just know that it's long enough for me to have abandoned all sense of shame as I grind down on Edward's leg.

I'm hoping I'll find my shame somewhere in the morning. Preferably in my purse.

"Bella..." he groans against my ear, nibbling gently on my earlobe. I almost die.

His hands slowly slide down my back, sending hot sparks dancing over my skin, until his fingers are gliding over the slope of my ass. I gasp as he grabs a handful of me and crushes our lower halves together as hard as he can, grinding his hips to the pounding music.

_Right, that's it. I can't... No, I can't anymore, this is too much for me to be expected to handle. _

"Edward," I pant into his ear, reaching up with one hand to tug on his hair, "I want to leave."

God, do I want to leave.

"Leave?" he groans, looking for clarification I suppose.

I pull back from his ear, dragging my lips against his jaw until they connect with his mouth.

"Take me back to your place," I whisper, catching his bottom lip between my own.

He hisses and looks into my eyes for all of three seconds before he's grabbing my hand and basically dragging me off the dancefloor.

Maybe it's just our combined desperation, but hailing down a cab has never been so exciting. When one rolls to a stop in front of us, I feel like we just won the lottery.

A sex lottery. I wonder if they have those.

If they don't, Edward and I should make one up.

He wrenches the door open for me and I glide in, tugging on his hand to bring him with me. Edward rabbles off his address and then pulls me to him, wrapping his left arm around my back while his right hand goes to my thigh. I turn my head into his shoulder and groan. He squeezes desperately, gliding his fingers just a little bit higher up.

Do I care that the driver can see Edward's hand and hear our noises?

Uh, _no_. Not. At. All.

"Jesus, Bella," he groans under his breath, quietly enough to only reach my ears. His fingers move, stroking my thigh over my dress. I wish I were naked.

Or, no, not naked, like... in the cab or anything. I wish we were in his apartment and _then_ I could be naked, and Edward could be naked and we could be naked and happy together, like two naked, happy, horny people about to have sex.

This cab really needs to drive faster.

When we finally pull over outside Edward's building 10 minutes later, he and I have been making out for like nine and a half minutes. My lips are puffy and tingly and they feel awesome because they got to stay pressed against Edward's for a very long period of time and I can't think of any part of my body that wouldn't like that.

Edward throws the driver some money and then pulls me out of the car. Literally.

Clearly I'm not moving fast enough.

Generally, I don't approve of being pulled, but right now I'm happy to be making exceptions.

A short while later, Edward and I are sitting on the infamous Dry Hump couch. Or well, it would be infamous if other people knew about it, which they don't because a) they wouldn't want to sit on the couch anymore and b) it's none of their business.

I did tell Alice though. Just not the, like, actual location.

He reaches over and takes my hand. We're sitting close enough that our knees are touching as they angle towards each other.

"So..." He breathes out slowly, playing with my fingers and refusing to look up at me. I wonder if he left his confidence by the front door. Like in his shoes. Maybe I'll find my shame there tomorrow.

"So..." I say lightly. Edward's lips twitch and he risks a quick glance up at me through his lashes. He's so cute it hurts.

"Well, I've been meaning to ask you... because we've been seeing each other for a while now, and I, you know, really like you, so I-... I was just wondering if..."

Edward swallows painstakingly as I notice how red and cute his cheeks are getting. He's blushing. Why is it cute and sexy on him, when I just look retarded?

"If... I mean, I'd, I'd like to, uh."

I almost want to tell him not to hurt himself.

"Okay, so, what I'm trying to say is that I'd... I-... I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. Is this something you'd be... I mean, is that okay?"

My heart is doing somersaults. I can't even do somersaults. Apparently my heart is better at gym than I am.

He wants to call me his girlfriend.

Tonight... is perfect.

"Of course it's okay," I say, and now my heart seems to be running laps around my ribs, which is really just showing off.

Edward's head snaps up immediately and a slow, disbelieving grin lights up his face. "Really?"

"Of course," I laugh, and I suddenly realise that I'm grinning too.

He breathes out a hard sigh of relief, gripping my hand. "Oh, thank god. It'd be so embarrassing if you said no."

I laugh at him, because he's being silly. _Say no?_ In what strange alternative universe would I ever say no to being his girlfriend?

"Yeah, that wasn't going to happen."

He laughs – I love when I make him do that – and leans in and kisses me sweetly. He goes to pull away far too soon, so I make the cunning move of sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, holding him to me.

_Yeah, can't escape now, can you, Edward?_

He groans deliciously, surging back to me with a sudden urgency. I gasp as he presses his lips hard against mine, and would you look at that, now we're furiously making out on his couch.

I'm grappling at him frantically, my hands flying everywhere to grab and twist and pull and feel, and his hands are doing the same and I love his hands. His hands are so good to me and the sensations hurtling through my body as his fingers trace lines on the skin on my back are intense and insane and so freaking phenomenal that I'm suddenly a little pissed we haven't been doing only this for the entire time we've known each other.

"Should we... brave the... fates?" he asks in between kisses and nibbles and he's so breathless and he sounds so hot. "Bedroom?"

I don't even answer him. As soon as the blessed word leaves his lips, I'm bolting off the couch, grabbing his shirt and dragging him with me. Edward stumbles after me as I start walking – jogging, running, whatever – backwards towards the room with the _bed_. My fingers are fighting it out with the stupid buttons on his stupid shirt which I just want to instantly disappear off my _boyfriends_ hot body while he's running his hands all over me.

I don't know how it happens – or well, no, of course I know how it happens; we walk – but suddenly I'm in his room and the bed is _right there_.

Right there. So close. Nothing will stand in my way of being in that bed with him, naked. Except maybe his shirt, because I'm trying to remember how buttons work and it's not going very well.

Okay, I officially hate his buttons.

"I hate your buttons!" I yell, pulling away from his mouth to inform him of this. Edward looks extremely startled and a little lost as to why he's no longer kissing me. I pull on his shirt which is still half-buttoned for some ungodly reason. "A little help, please?"

Edward looks down at my hands, breathing hard and fast and oh god, it sounds so sexy when he breathes like that.

"Oh," he says and then both our fingers are working to undress him and we should do everything together because we're clearly much better that way. I pull his shirt off his shoulders, flinging it god knows where as I immediately attach my lips to his again.

He's wresting with my dress now, searching like the Indiana Jones of undressers for the zipper. I half-reluctantly remove my hands from his bare chest to help him in his quest, guiding his fingers to my lower back. As he's busy dealing with that, I start doing something I've been dreaming about all evening – unbuckling his belt.

I can see him straining against his pants and as soon as the belt buckle is hanging loose, I slide my hand down, grabbing him firmly.

"Oh, holy shit!" Edward gasps and he clenches my now unzipped dress violently. .

I get to work on getting his pants off as he slides his hands roughly up my back, grabbing my dress at my shoulders and pulling it off me. I suddenly get extremely nervous, because I'm not wearing a bra with this dress and Edward has never seen my naked boobs before.

And then it hits me that we're actually going to have sex soon, which now seems like a monumental occurrence of great importance, which just makes me even more nervous. Millions of questions and concerns zoom through my head in the time it takes for the dress to fall down my arms and hang off my elbows. I drop my hands. The dress slips quietly down until it's pooled around my waist. I'm fighting the urge to throw up a little, which really isn't cool when I'm about to have sex with my spankin' new boyfriend.

"Bella..." Edward whispers reverently and I look up shyly to see him staring down at my boobs, which I knew he would because he's a guy and well... they're boobs. He can stare all he wants, I'm just really nervous now and I don't want to be but I can't help it.

Edward's hand slowly trails down from my shoulder and I hold my breath as his fingers come closer and closer to the swell.

His first touch is a gentle sweep, and it sends shivers down my spine. His brow creases in concentration, and he seems to be taking this very seriously.

He moves to cup me gently, bending down to kiss me. I kiss him back, still feeling really nervous. I have no idea what the hell happened with the frantic urgency that was swirling around us only seconds earlier, but it's all gone now. It's only sweet kisses and soft cupping and gentle strokes. My eyes are closed and I'll bet my bottom that his are too.

"Bella?" he murmurs hesitantly against my lips, sliding his hands from my boobs to my waist. I'm sad that he does this, because of course I want him to keep his hands on my boobs.

"Yes?"

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "I'm really nervous."

I nod against him, our foreheads now pressed together. "Me too."

He chuckles softly down his nose, rubbing small circles on my skin with his thumbs. "Great. So we're both nervous about this. That's just... awesome."

I chuckle then too, agreeing with him. "But actually, knowing that you're nervous too is kinda making it easier for me."

"Yeah? Well, that's good for you. I'm still really nervous."

I laugh harder, because he's so cute sometimes. I put my hands against his chest, slowly moving them up and down. His breathing picks up, which is really fascinating. My mind fills with possibilities, of what I can do to make him pant and grunt and moan and _growl _and oh, would you look at that, now I'm breathing heavier too. I pull my head away from his, just an inch, and we look at each other. He really does have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

I lean in and kiss him, just barely taking his bottom lip in between mine. I hold our eye contact, making our kiss feel so incredibly intimate. I almost want to get a message across with my lips, give him a promise that everything will be fine tonight. Is my sentiment corny and a little lame? Yeah, maybe, but it's still true, and it doesn't really matter if it's corny and lame because I'm not sharing it with anyone else, so there's no one to judge me for how I feel.

As we continue to kiss, all soft and sweet and perfect, we go back to undressing each other. Edward pushes my dress past my hips and it lands around my feet with a lovely, cool gust of air that I kind of want to feel one more time, but it would be weird to ask Edward to pull my dress back up just to drop it again.

I pull away from him, turning to move the cover out of the way. He sits down on the bed and pulls his socks off while I climb onto his mattress. It's much softer than mine, I notice, and I'm surprisingly annoyed. He's better at buttons and has a better mattress. That just doesn't seem fair.

Then I stop thinking about stupid mattresses, because he stands up and grabs his pants. He looks at me, seeming to hesitate for a second, before pushing them down his hips. I follow the movement with my eyes, watching as The Hard One is revealed in his boxers. I scoot over in the bed, making room as I stretch out my hand towards him, urging him to take it.

He does. His fingers glide over my palm, grasping me firmly as he slides down beside me. I immediately turn into him, attaching my lips to his as I wrap my arm and legs around his warm body.

He pulls me close with his hand splayed over my back, where he proceeds to draw random doodles. It feels so good and I shiver as my entire body seems to erupt in goosebumps. I realise with a jolt of heat through my bellybutton that Edward and I are basically naked and pressed together.

That is so fucking awesome.

Then suddenly I moan _really_ loudly, because Edward just dragged his fingers down my back – he's scratching me. _Oh, holy shit_.

"Oh, holy shit..." I gasp into his mouth, bucking my hips against him.

"Fuck, I love that you love that," Edward groans, starting to scratch me with more vigour. Circles, loops, straight lines, wavy lines, zigzags – he does it all, and he does it good. I start panting, throwing my head back and arching my spine. Edward's warm lips cover my throat, sucking gently on some seriously sensitive spots.

_Okay, that's it. I want him, now. Immediately._

"Edward, oh god, please," I moan, pulling on him nonsensically. I then get the brilliant idea of taking off his underwear, because The Hard One is still restrained within them and that's just, like, a crime against mankind.

Soon his underwear are off, and whoops, there goes my underwear too and now we're completely naked. In his bed.

"Still nervous?" I ask as he rolls me underneath him, lips once again busy making my neck feel tremendously well taken care of.

"Yup, extremely," he answers, while I open my legs so that he can settle himself between them.

"Fuck..."

We hiss out the cuss in tandem when his hips _almost_ touch mine, but not quite. It's like, right _there_.

"Don't be nervous," I whisper breathlessly, reaching up to smooth some of his hair from his pretty face.

"I can't help it," he chuckles, leaning in to kiss me quickly before making his way across my skin down to my boobs. He nuzzles them affectionately.

I sneak a hand down between our bodies, my fingers acting like a missile tracker as I head straight for The Hard One. I haven't actually held it in my hand since the Dry Hump and I've really missed it.

He abandons my boobs as I start stroking him firmly, crashing his lips to mine instead. His tongue against mine is desperate and I respond hungrily, because jesus, we've been wanting to do this for a seriously long time.

But then he stops, pulling away from me and gulping down lungfuls of air. "Bella, you really need to stop doing that, or we won't be having sex for at least another 30 minutes."

I let go of him immediately, pulling my arm up so fast that my hands slaps against his pillow. He watches my face and laughs.

"You don't have to act so repulsed."

"I'm not repulsed. I happen to really like him a lot."

"Him?"

Shit.

"You. I mean you. I like you. And... it. Not him. I don't... that would be weird."

His only response is shaking his head as he shifts his weight to one arm, trailing the other hand down my body. He swallows, and I can't tell if it's from nerves, excitement, or both.

"Jesus, I think we're really like... actually doing this," he says as I reach down between us once again, grabbing him and leading him into me.

We lock eyes for a few silent seconds, before he slowly pushes forward.

_Oh_.

_Oh_.

_Oh..._!

_Oh_!

He's inside me. Completely inside me. And we haven't been cockblocked.

"Oh, thank god," he breathes, and his tone is so reverent that I burst out laughing. He looks down at me, a shaky smile settling on his face.

"No interruptions. It's a miracle," he says, bending down to kiss me. I move my hips and he groans against my mouth.

"Okay, I'm not going to last long. I'm sorry," he says, taking a deep breath as he shifts above me.

I just nod. Words are beyond me.

There is no more talking after that. We both set a fast pace, thrusting and grinding, pulling and pushing, squeezing and gripping at each other. Edward can't keep his lips off of me – if he isn't kissing my mouth, he's dragging his lips over my neck, biting my shoulder, nibbling on my ear or just pressing them against me as he breathes hard and fast.

I love the noises he makes; they're manly and delicious and they let me know he's definitely enjoying himself – a lot, from the sounds of it – just like my moans and gasps let him know that the sensations he's creating in me are incredible and that I've never felt anything close to this intensity and satisfaction.

"Bella, I'm gonna..."

He makes inarticulate grunts as his hips abruptly move harder, faster and more frantically.

I dig my fingers into his back, gasping for air with increasingly desperate noises.

"_Bella, _fuck! I ca- I can't… _oh, shit_…"

My eyes are suddenly open and I watch in fascination as Edward cries out, convulsing in my arms, _because of me_, and he groans my name, and on his last thrust my orgasms slams into me violently, and the only thing I can sense besides the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through my body is how his breath feels against my neck.

Edward keeps going for me, trying to help me ride it out, before he slowly comes to a stop. His arms are shaking, his breathing is ragged and a small line of sweat glistens on his forehead.

He's never looked more beautiful to me.

With a groan he collapses on top of me, burying his face in my neck. I attempt breathing, but it's really difficult.

We did it. We managed to have sex from start to finish, and no one interrupted us. The gods of humping have smiled upon us and blessed our union. The curse has been broken. Halle-fucking-lujah.

"Bella?"

"Yes?" I pant, still trying to breathe like normal.

"That was definitely... worth the wait."

Edward sounds drugged and dopey and adorable, like he's grinning into my neck and if he is, I want to see it, so I put a hand in his hair and coax his head up.

He's grinning and looks drugged and dopey and adorable. He immediately leans in and kisses me.

It was worth the wait. Definitely.

After we've both cleaned up a little, we return to the now amazingly rumpled bed and crawl in, snuggling together under the cover.

Naked snuggles with Edward – nothing beats it.

"I'm _so_ making pancakes tomorrow for breakfast," I sigh as I nuzzles my face into that awesome crook between a guys neck and his shoulder. Fuck, I love this crook.

"Chocolate chip?"

"Do you have chocolate chips?"

Edward's quiet for a few seconds as he thinks about it.

"Maybe, I don't know. I think Jasper bought some the other day, but then Alice came over and they stayed in his room for a long time, so... yeah, I don't know if we still have them."

"They used chocolate chips during sex?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Huh."

"Mmm."

I'm silent for a while. Long enough for Edward's breathing to slow and deepen.

"Can we do that sometime?"

"Hmm? Do what?" Edward mumbles sleepily, moving his legs so that they're more entwined with mine. Damn, he's so cute.

"Use chocolate chips during sex."

"Yeah, sure."

"Yay, awesome," I grin, squeezing him a little tighter.

He chuckles at my enthusiasm, but I think he's getting so sleepy that it's difficult to talk, so I let him be.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"Night, Bella. Pancakes... yum."

_My boyfriend is delirious post-orgasm. I love it_.

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys.


	8. The Breakfast Counter

**Chapter 8: The Breakfast Counter**

EPOV

Bella is standing in my kitchen, making pancakes, wearing my boxers and my shirt from last night.

She looks so fucking hot.

I observe her quietly from the doorway – because I'm lewd like that – as she mixes the batter. She barged into the bathroom while I was taking a shower, and wordlessly brandished a bag of chocolate chips in my face, ecstatically shaking it. She then squealed and ran back out, leaving me stunned, surprised and eventually hissing in pain because some stupid shampoo apparently mistook my eye for hair.

I can only assume this means Bella is making chocolate chip pancakes, as she promised last night.

After we had sex.

Yeah, that's right – I got _laid_.

This is where I mentally high-five myself.

I sneak up behind my girlfriend – and yes, I just mentally high-fived myself again – and peer over her shoulder into the bowl.

"You suck at sneaking, Edward," she says suddenly, right before she elbows me in the gut. I double over slightly with a manly grunt, managing to hit my chin against her shoulder, and fucking _ow_!

"Jesus, oww!" I complain, rubbing my chin and stepping back from her. She turns around immediately, looking horrified.

"Oh my god, Edward, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I say, waving her off. I'm not really fine, because my entire lower jaw really hurts now, but I don't want to look like a pussy in front of my spankin' new, fuck-hot girlfriend.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-... I'm so sorry!" she coos, reaching up to cup my face. I allow her to do this, because I like it when she touches me. Plus, Bella can pretty much do anything she wants to me and I won't complain.

Or well, I'm sure there are many things she could do to me that would make me complain, like forcing me to carry her a purse or buy her, like, tampons or something.

"It's okay, Bella, I'm fine," I assure her, but she stands up on her tippy toes and kisses me gently and suddenly I don't really care about my stupid jaw anymore. I kiss her back and she tastes minty fresh and awesome.

My girlfriend carries a travel-pack of toiletries around in her purse. It consists, among other things, of a tiny, collapsible toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste no bigger than half my damn pinkie. She wouldn't let me kiss her until she'd brushed her teeth, and since I think sharing a toothbrush is gross, this worked out well.

Bella hums against my lips and snakes her hands around my neck, so I forget about her travel-pack of toiletries, because that's what you do when your spankin' new girlfriend starts kissing you in the middle of the kitchen while wearing your clothes and making pancakes.

_From scratch_. That's right, no powder mix from Bella – she makes chocolate chip pancakes from scratch. At least she does the morning after sex. I'll have to test this theory further to be able to confirm my hypothesis. And by test, I mean have lots and lots and lots of hot sex.

All these thoughts about future sex with Bella is making me really want sex with Bella, _now_. My dick apparently agrees, as it starts gearing up in my underwear. I wrap my arms tightly around her waist, grinding into her because grinding feels pretty awesome when you're hard. She lets out a sound that so pleased I think I just levelled up my sexual prowess by about ten billion points.

I kiss her harder as I back her up against the counter, sucking on her bottom lip. I don't think I've ever seen lips as sexy and beautiful as Bella's, and I've definitely never kissed any as soft and perfect as hers. Although, that might not be saying a lot, to be honest. But still, Bella's lips are a work of art and the mental image of them wrapped around my woody has served as fodder for the spank bank quite a few times in the last five months or so.

Bella moans against my mouth right before I feel her tongue tickling my lips. I quickly work my hands underneath my shirt – _god, it's so fucking hot that she's wearing it_ – so I can touch her skin. Soft, smooth and warm; she feels like heaven. I go for her boobs immediately, because I'm horny and the cockblocking curse was lifted last night, so why the fuck not?

Bella seems to agree with me because she arches her back with a muffled gasp as I cup her and squeeze. She has the best boobs, ever.

_And oh god, her nipples are already hard_.

Her hands are suddenly flying everywhere, stroking and caressing and grabbing at every inch of me she can reach. Our kisses get deeper and heavier, and I'm starting to find it quite hard to breathe, but I'm really not complaining about that.

If you're going to pass out from lack of oxygen, having the reason for it be that you're making out with your spankin' new girlfriend in your kitchen the morning after you get laid sounds pretty damn good to me. At least it's not something lame, like... I don't know, having a Who-can-hold-their-breath-the-longest contest with your brother.

Emmett won that one when I was nine years old, by the way. He won and I ended up with a scar under my chin because I fell forward and smacked my face on the coffee table when I fainted, but that's beside the point, because I don't want to think about my oaf of a brother right now, with Bella's tugging on my t-shirt, obviously trying to get me naked and all. That pretty much takes precedence over everything.

Does this mean kitchen-sex?

Yeah, it pretty much means kitchen-sex.

We break our kiss long enough for us to pull my shirt over my head and I drop it on the floor as Bella, to my dismay, reaches for the buttons on the shirt she's wearing. I grab her wrists and place them on the counter behind her, holding her firmly as I lean in.

"The shirt stays on," I practically growl at her, and it sounds really fucking good too. I'm not a good growler, usually, but I seem to be doing that a lot when things like naked Bella are involved, so I've been getting a bit of practice.

Bella stares at me for a few seconds, her beautiful lips hanging open in shock and her brown eyes wide. Then she whimpers and Jesus jam cracker if the sound doesn't make my dick incredibly impatient.

_Soon, buddy – just take it easy._

"Oh god, you have no idea what it does to me when you talk in that voice," she moans, leaning backwards as if seeking support from the counter. I'm momentarily distracted by her impressive amount of cleavage, and how every breath she takes moves the fabric of my shirt _just_ a little bit over her chest, but then I snap my eyes back up to hers.

"I don't? Then I guess I have some investigations to take care of, don't I?" I murmur darkly, squeezing her wrists in a clear command that her arms are to stay there. As I let go of her and transport my hands to her waist, slowly gliding them up and down her sides, I attempt to distract her a little by leaning in and biting her earlobe.

"_Oh!_" she breathes out, a violent shiver raking through her entire body as I drag my teeth over the soft fleshy bit of her ear. I grin smugly and mentally high-five myself again.

_With_ sound-effects.

I breathe into her ear a little and then distract her even more by kissing, nibbling and licking her neck. She gives off the most amazing sounds when I do this; I can't get enough. Plus, she tastes un-freaking-believable, which is just a huge bonus really.

Bella's panting and moaning away, her arms bent and her back bowed over the counter, as if she can't really muster up the strength to support herself. Her head is lolling backwards too, leaving her throat entirely exposed to me.

_Excellent_. She won't see it coming, which is of course totally in line with my plan.

I grab my boxers at her hips and drag them off with a violent tug while biting down on her neck. She gasps in shock, a jolt going through her as I've successfully caught her completely by surprise.

I suppress my urge to rub my hands together and laugh triumphantly, because that shit's just not cool.

"Edward!" Bella groans and I feel the pretty awesome vibrations of the sound against my lips. I suck a little on her skin before starting to make my way further down her body, feeling just a little giddy about the whole thing, for unknown reasons.

"Oh god, are you gonna-...? You-... Jesus, Edward... fuck..."

I've rendered her speechless. How fucking awesome do I feel right now? Pretty fucking awesome, that's how. I'm not used to these, like... girl-reactions. I mean, I've never really had a proper girlfriend before, except when I was 10 and Sarah McGregor agreed to go out with me – and that only lasted two weeks anyway – so the only experiences I can draw from here are a few one-night stands and random hook-ups, none of which even come close to being with Bella. I've never met anyone like her before, and now she's here, with me, wearing only my shirt, panting and moaning because of me. It's pretty unbelievable, really.

_And so awesome_.

I press kisses to her stomach, letting my warm breath slowly seep through the fabric still covering her skin. I know exactly how the sensation feels and I'm really hoping she likes it.

Going from her moan, I'd say she does.

Bella's panting heavily, her head thrown back again and she looks unbelievably beautiful. She always looks beautiful though – so incredibly beautiful – but there is just something about the way she looks right now, with her amazing lips parted like that, her tangled sex-hair spilling down her back and onto the countertop, her cheeks flushed and pink and so perfect... Jesus, I've never seen anything quite like her.

I can't believe she actually agreed to be my girlfriend. I can't believe she's actually letting me do this to her in the middle of my kitchen. I can't believe I can call her mine.

My hands reach the bottom of my shirt, and I slowly push it up with my wandering hands, bunching the fabric around her waist. Bella's gasping with every breath now, so I lean in and bite just over her hipbone, because I want to see what that'll do to her.

Her body jerks in my hands, and she hisses through her teeth. I must remember this magic spot for future reference, so I can make her do that sound again.

I kiss my way down her soft skin. I travel down fast, a direct line to where I know she wants me. I have no interest in teasing her right now – I just want to make her feel good. I want to taste her.

She throws a leg over my shoulder and twists her fingers into my hair. This is like the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I keep going, trying every move I can possibly think of, until she pulls me away. There's something primal in her eyes that I instinctively respond to.

I stand up, crashing my lips against hers, taking in her every moan and sigh and giving her some of my own as I grind into her.

I am ridiculously hard right now.

We're both gasping as we attempt to touch as much of each other as possible, hands flying everywhere to grip and caress. Her fingers close around the waistband of my boxers and she uses her hold to pull me tightly against her.

"These, off – now," she pants into my mouth, her breathing heavy and intoxicating. We both struggle to push them off my hips as fast as is humanly possible.

My dick springs free and I groan as it immediately brushes up against Bella's warm stomach. She just purrs contently, wiggling against me, which I find unreasonably hot.

"Oh god, Bella," I murmur against her lips, grabbing her around the waist so I can lift her onto the counter and put my dick in the happiest place on earth.

Yeah, Bella's pussy is my dick's version of Disney Land. It's fucking amazing. It's Dickney Land.

But my plans are foiled. By a stupid bowl of pancake batter.

I've barely pulled Bella's feet off the floor when she realises what I'm doing and immediately makes a weird, alarmed sound.

"BuuWAAAHbah-bah-bah-bah!"

Honest to god. _That's_ what she sounds like.

"Watch the- Not the bowl! Edward, the pancakes!" she hurriedly explains, flapping her hands against my shoulders and looking cute as fuck, all flustered and panicked and adorable.

"Alright, alright, calm down," I tell her, looking over her shoulder and glaring at the plastic, blue, half-sphere, currently-filled-with-my-uncooked-breakfast cockblocker. I almost placed Bella's ass right on top of it, which would have been bad for several reasons.

Mainly, because breakfast would be ruined.

I purse my lips and think for all of two seconds before promptly tightening my hold on her and swinging us around, depositing her on the opposite counter. She squeals the entire time, but wastes not a single second from when her ass touches the counter to when her legs are winding around my hips and crushing me to her. I approve of her time-management skills and high priorities, because they're right in line with my own.

She grabs my head and kisses me desperately. I grab her hips in the meantime and with one swift pull, I drag her closer to the edge, until I feel her against my dick, warm and wet and amazing. Bella's nails scratch along my scalp, the pleasurable pain egging me on. I align myself at the entrance to Dickney Land, groaning as the head is welcomed in with huge smiles and fucking sunshine and awesomeness.

Her heels suddenly dig into my ass, forcing my hips forward and into her, and _oh... my... motherfucking... god_.

"I'm so glad we can do this now," I blurt out in a rush as my eyes clench shut from the overwhelming awesomeness that is this moment.

"Wh-uhh... hah?" Bella groans, apparently not understanding what I'm talking about. I don't blame her – _I_ barely know what I'm talking about.

"The... cockblocking-... _ungh_... thing," I press out between clenched teeth as I start moving in her and it feels good beyond all comprehension. Jesus christ.

Bella only moans incoherently, attaching her teeth to my shoulder in lieu of providing any sort of answer. Obviously my shoulder is somehow connected to my hips in a way I wasn't previously aware of, because the pain of her teeth biting into my skin makes my hips surge forward almost violently. Bella's scream is muffled against me, but it's an undeniable positive sound so I figure she likes it.

I do it again, to test my hypothesis. She throws her head back and moans, low and guttural and _loud_ and that pretty much proves it and tells me everything I need to know.

I hold her hips tightly, pulling her to me roughly with each thrust as I set the pace. Bella's hair swings back and forth behind her, her spectacular boobs jiggle under my shirt, her breaths come out sharp and rapid, in time with our movements.

Bella moans choppily into my ear, clinging to me desperately. I don't ever want to stop fucking her. Never ever, ever. I don't care that it isn't physically possible to go on fucking someone forever, I'm just going to pretend that it is for the next few minutes and live in my little bubble of happiness and denial.

"God, you feel so good," I groan against her skin, biting down a little just under her ear.

One thing I have learned about Bella is that scratching _really_ turns her on. It's strange and it's fucking hot and I'm about to take full advantage of her weird little quirks.

My hands travel quickly from her hips to her back and I lean in to steal a kiss.

She scowls at me as I remove my lips from hers, which makes me laugh-groan because she looks funny and because my dick is having the time of his fucking life right now in Dickney Land, so of course I'm going to groan a little.

"Touch yourself," I tell her. I can feel myself steadily approaching my own release but I want her to finish first. Why? Because I'm a gentleman and I care about Bella's pleasure, that's why.

Also, I only managed to last like two minutes last night, which is freaking embarrassing, and I need to make sure she knows that I'm not usually that quick and that I'm not entirely incapable of making sure she gets hers.

Bella's hand immediately disappears between us and I can tell when she makes contact because her reaction is pretty straightforward. Epic clench, full-body shudder and verbal affirmation pretty much seals the deal.

I'm tempted to ask her if it feels good, but you'd pretty much have to be both deaf and blind not to realise that Bella is most definitely feeling good right now, so instead I keep my inane questions to myself and pull out my trump card.

Oh, yeah, you know it. I'm going in... _for the back scratch_.

I watch her beautiful face closely and then proceed to shove my hands as far up her back as I can go. I drag them all the way down her spine to the dimples over her ass.

She falls apart almost instantly, which gives my ego an unjustified boost. Her breath hitches before giving way to one long, drawn-out, kind of primal moan that I want to hear again and again. I guess it calls to the caveman inside of me. He's all like '_My woman scream – I do good_!', grinning nonsensically and grabbing his junk in a rude gesture.

He's not very bright.

Bella convulses and shakes in my arms and just the sight of her like this, totally giving herself over to the pleasure coursing through her, causes a shot of heat to barrel through my body, aiming directly for my balls.

Bella chooses this exact moment to basically collapse completely with one last moan. Luckily for the both of us, I already have my arms around her back and quick as fuck reflexes, or she would most likely have toppled right over the counter and onto the living room floor, or at the very least banged her head on the edge really hard. I feel incredibly manly when I manage to rescue her from this painful fate, and she crashes into my chest as I pull her to me.

She throws her limp arms around my shoulders and nuzzles her face against my neck with a sigh. .

In a loop in my mind, I keep seeing Bella's face just as she shattered into her orgasm – the mental image is quickly making sure the feeling in my balls, the one that tells me that right _now_ would be a really good time to thrust faster and harder, is intensified and encouraged. I'm just estimating here, but I'd say I'm about... maybe seven seconds away from blowing my load?

"Oh my-... FUCK, Bella!"

My thighs are shaking, my lungs are burning, my heartbeats are echoing loudly in my ears, the rush of blood through my veins creating a throbbing, ringing hum. I think my eyes are clenched shut, but I don't know because I'm just seeing Bella's face as she comes anyway.

With one more thrust, the feeling in my balls explodes. Mind-numbing heat and pleasure hurtles through my body instantly, making every muscle clench violently for what seems like an endless second. I cry out as my release surges up my dick, euphoria spreading through my veins as my orgasm takes hold and forces my brain to take a little time-out.

My body convulses with the pleasure rolling through me in steady waves and I can't stop the grunts and breathless cries that leave me as I empty myself in Dickney Land.

Jesus. Fucking. Hamsterball.

When the last wave of that truly epic load-blowing has passed, I suddenly feel extremely weak and wobbly, like a bowl of jello.

I abruptly slump forward, necessitating slapping my hands down on the counter to keep from crushing her beneath me.

My arms are shaking, but I need their support right now, because I'm pretty sure my knees have somehow disappeared. It would be really helpful if my arms were a bit more cooperative and understanding over the fact that I don't want to crumple to the floor like a boneless bag of Edward, and stop trembling under the strain of supporting me.

_Stupid, good-for-nothing arms_.

"Oh my... god... Edward..."

"I know..."

"Oh, Jesus...

"I know... holy-..."

"We need to do that... again... sometime."

"Uh-huh..."

Bella pulls her face away from my neck and kisses me lazily. I try to kiss her back, but even my face is completely exhausted and post-coital, so I don't really know if it counts, and we're both still panting and shit, so we're more like just touching lips. It feels very nice, though.

Just then, my phone buzzes annoyingly somewhere to my left. I groan and contemplate not checking the text-message I just got, because if I can barely muster up enough energy to kiss my girlfriend – _mental high-five_ – how am I supposed to use my opposable thumbs to their best advantage to punch some buttons on my stupid phone?

I groan in annoyance, because I know myself and I can never ignore a text message if I know I've received one. I'm way too curious about these sort of things.

Bella reluctantly releases me as I pull out of Dickney Land and step back, rubbing her thighs as I do so. I fling my arm out and make a sloppy grab for the stupid phone and I'm intensely relieved when I manage to get my hands on it the first try.

With a sigh I lean back into the cradle of Bella's awesomesauce thighs and read the stupid text on my stupid phone.

**Just a heads-up: Alice and I will be home in like 5 minutes. Get dressed? – J**

_Oh, fuck_.

"What? Who is it from?" Bella asks after I gasp dramatically. I look up at her quickly, where she sits, naked from the waist down, on the exact spot where Jasper usually eats his breakfast.

_Double-fuck_.

"Jasper and Alice will be here in like five minutes," I tell her, watching as her eyes go wide and fill with a slight panic.

She squeaks and pushes me back so she can jump off the counter. However, as soon as her feet touch the floor, she almost falls flat on her face. She grabs on to me as her legs fold beneath her, squeaking in surprise this time.

I manage to awkwardly grab her and keep us both from falling on our asses while Bella almost instantly starts giggling hysterically.

"Oh my god, you turned my legs to jello!"

"Well, yeah, that's great, but we really need to get dressed and disinfect the breakfast counter, okay? Preferably before Alice and Jasper arrive."

"Okay," she giggle-snorts adorably, detangling herself from me to retrieve the discarded boxers she was wearing before. "I'll just be a sec," she giggles to me over her shoulder before quickly wobbling away to the bathroom.

I take a split second to try to decide which action is more important right now: get dressed or disinfect the counter. Get dressed wins.

30 seconds later I've tugged on a pair of pants and a t-shirt and am running back to the kitchen to deal with the site of mine and Bella's amazing sex-romp. Hopefully the strong smell of cleaning products won't be too suspicious and _hopefully_, Bella and I won't make weird faces, noises or looks if anyone sits down at the counter.

I'm viciously scrubbing the hell out of the spot where only minutes ago I was having mind-blowing sex with my spankin' new girlfriend – _mental high-five_ – when Bella comes back. It looks like she put her travel pack of toiletries to good use.

"I hope Alice'll bring me some clothes," she says as she strolls up to the stove and turns it on. "Not that I mind wearing your shirt and boxers, because I really don't-... oh, hey, is it too early for me to steal a pair of these from you?"

She whirls around abruptly, wielding a spatula in one hand and tugging on the underwear she has on with the other. Her random question seems just as sudden to me as her twirl, and I blink a few times in an effort to keep up. "They're really awesome to sleep in, but maybe it's too soon? Would it be weird? If I took them? Is it-... that's too weird, right?"

"Uh..." I blink some more.

"It's just that they'd be awesome to sleep in, but I won't take them if you don't-... like, if that would be too awkward for you?"

She looks at me, a hopeful-but-still-hesitant smile on her pretty lips. I finally understand that she wants to take a pair of my boxers with her home, which I think sounds like a terrific idea.

"No, no – take 'em. I like when you wear them," I say stupidly. But the grin that lights up Bella's face at my answer and the way she skips across the tiny expanse of the kitchen to give me a quick kiss makes me think that sounding stupid maybe isn't that bad.

I've only just managed to put the cleaning products away when a loud, slow knock echoes around the apartment, followed by the sound of the door opening, equally slowly.

"Edward, Bella – we're back now," Jasper calls out cautiously as the door clicks shut behind them. Bella and I share a glance as they seem to be walking exaggeratedly slowly and loudly.

_Fucking idiots._

They soon appear in the living room with their hands held up over their eyes.

Hi-fucking-larious.

_Not_.

"Are you decent?" Jasper asks, cringing. I pick up a dishtowel and lob it across the room into his face. Clearly not expecting that, he recoils with a girly shriek, flinging the dishtowel to the ground.

"If that was a pair of your underwear, I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Stop being an idiot," I snap at him. "Why the hell would I throw a pair of my underwear in your face?"

"I don't know, to be a dick?"

"I'd actually prefer that my dick was covered by my underwear, thank you very much."

"I think we'd all prefer that," Alice chimes in cheerfully from behind her hands.

"Uh, I wouldn't," Bella adds helpfully, to which I repress the urge to gloat pompously.

"I know, right?" Alice laughs. "I don't want Jazz's weiner to be covered either."

"Alice!" Jasper objects in a shrill voice, turning in her direction, which is stupid since he can't actually see her with his hands still covering his eyes, and she can't see him either, since she's covering her eyes too. It's all so very, very stupid.

"Oh, baby, don't be embarrassed – it's just because I love your weiner that I don't want it to be cover-"

"Alice, can you not? Please?"

She just giggles at him before jiggling her shoulder a little, making the bag she has on it swing casually by her side. "Oh, Bella, I brought you some clothes, it's in the bag."

"Aww, you're such a good friend!" Bella sighs happily before turning around to flip a pancake. They smell fucking yummy.

"The bestest bestie ever!" Alice answers, still behind her goddamn hands.

I groan loudly. "Guys, we're wearing clothes! You can look."

The asshats slowly lower their hands, only to reveal tightly clenched eyes. I flip them both off. I know they can't see my very polite gesture, but that's the point. I'm pretty sure that if I flipped Alice off to her face, I wouldn't be entering Dickney Land for at least three weeks due to the extensive damage she'd do to my man-bits, and then I'm pretty sure Bella would kill me for cockblocking us again. So yeah, that's _not_ going to happen.

Jasper slowly looks at me. He heaves a huge sigh of relief – fucking asshole – when he takes in my non-naked appearance and nudges Alice.

"Baby, it really is okay – they're clothed."

"Fuck you," I reply, turning to the fridge to get a glass of orange juice.

"Oh, whew!" Alice says behind me and I take a deep breath to stop myself from screaming obscenities at them. Or stripping naked just to mess with their heads.

"Guys, shut up," Bella laughs, getting two plates out for our breakfast. I snicker quietly when I realise she isn't even going to offer Alice and Jasper any, which is just as well because it means that there's more for me, and after last night and the Kitchen Sex, I definitely need some sustenance.

Thankfully, Alice and Jasper don't take a seat at the Breakfast Counter of Sin and Sex, choosing instead to entertain themselves with crappy Sunday TV. Bella and I take our plates to join them once generous stacks of post-sex chocolate chip pancakes are ready to be devoured.

I'm in the middle of basically inhaling my last amazing, groan-worthy pancake, when a very alarming, very strange and very loud banging is heard from the hallway outside.

"... The hell?" Jasper asks, frowning at the front door. We all look towards it as if it holds the answers to our questions, which obviously it doesn't because it's just a stupid door. The bangs get louder, and a few obscure shouts are thrown in now. They sound suspiciously like 'fuck'.

"_...-uk! Fuck! Masen! Open the fucking door!"_

Uh, what? Bella looks at me with a very pretty 'Wtf?'-face, a sentiment that I echo exactly.

What. The. Fuck.

"_Masen! OPEN THE DOOR!_"

The yelling is getting closer and louder with each second, until suddenly our front door starts shaking violently as someone bangs and kicks on it. The shouting continues, and there's a strong clang of panic in the dude's voice as he screams through our door.

"_MASEN! OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE! FUCK, LET ME IN, I NEED TO GET IN! MASEN! COME ON! SHIT! OPEN THE DOOR!_"

"Is that... Cullen?" Jasper asks as I bolt up from my seat and run to let him in.

I barely get the lock undone before Cullen burst in, panting and wheezing heavily.

He pushes me out of the way as he slams the door shut behind him, securing every single lock we have on it. He collapses against the wood, grabbing at his chest as he struggles to get air into his lungs. Sweat is dripping off his face and he kinda looks like he's going to throw up.

"What the hell, Cullen, did you run here?"

He nods vigorously and croaks out a "Yeah," greedily gulping down air.

_Alrighty then_.

"Uh, why?"

"_Where the FUCK did you go, you dipshit?"_ someone roars from out in the hallway. Cullen freezes and looks at us all in panic, pressing a finger to his lips to tell us all to shut the hell up, which I think we can all agree to do, because the roaring voice outside sounds scary as fuck.

"_You fucking PUSSY! Get the fuck out here! STOP FUCKING HIDING!"_

There are stomps and bangs and more shouting and one lone door opening somewhere down the hallway, screaming at the roaring man to shut up and go away. I hope Roaring Man takes my neighbours advice, because I'm a bit confused and I'd love some answers right about now.

It takes several minutes before the hallway grows silent again. We all turn to Cullen, who's now managed to get his oxygen intake somewhat under control. He drags himself over to the couch and collapses down on it without a word, making Alice bounce a little beside him from the impact.

We all stare at him some more. He lays his head back and sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

Bella slowly turns to look at me, her 'Wtf?'-face from before now amplified. I give her a 'I don't know!'-face and then we stare at Cullen again.

He still doesn't say anything, which is slightly ridiculous. I walk over from my spot at the door and sit back down in my seat.

The silence is unbearable. Cullen offers no explanation.

"Uh... dude? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jasper finally prompts him, causing Cullen to slowly open his eyes and raise his head.

"What the fuck was that all about?" I ask. Blunt seems like a good approach to this situation. "Was that guy why you were running? Was he chasing you or something?"

There should be way more incredulousness in my voice as I ask this, but nothing surprises me about Cullen anymore.

"Yeah, you could say that," he answers me as he eyes my last half-eaten pancake. There's no way in hell he's getting it. I grab my plate and stuff the pancake into my mouth. Cullen gives me the stink-eye as I chew.

"So, uh... who is he?" Bella asks, either not aware of or simply ignoring the exchange Cullen and I just had over my pancake. He looks at her and sighs.

"_That_... would be Esme's ex-boyfriend."

* * *

**Aww, poor RLGEWW – he doesn't like running.**

**Until next time. **

**/Vic**


	9. The Explanation

**Hugs and kisses and snuggles and any other form of physical expression of gratitude to bouncy 72, magnessina and OLVamptramp for making sure this chapter looks all pretty and shiny.**

**And of course, the same to you guys, simply for being awesome. Now, go forth and read! (who else mentally corrects that to "Now, go forth and procreate!"? No? Just me? Oh, okay.)**

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Explanation **

BPOV

Really Loud Guy Edward Works With, aka Carlisle Cullen, looks really hot when he's all sweaty.

This is, of course, a completely clinical and objective observation. Completely. No personal input or opinion, at all. Nope, none. Zilch. Ze-ro. Totally clinical and objective.

_Ahem_.

I quickly look away from the tattooed, sweaty hunk of man-meat, feeling a little guilty for ogling him only like half an hour after having the most amazing kitchen sex _ever_ with my spankin' new boyfriend.

I think kitchen-sex might be my new favourite thing of all time.

I look over at Edward, who is totally hotter and cuter and more adorable and sexier than RLGEWW, only to find him staring in bewilderment at his co-worker.

I look over at Alice, sitting next to the tattooed, sweaty hunk of man-meat only to find her also staring at him in bewilderment, with maybe a pinch of oh-my-god-totally-hot-guy-sitting-next-to-me appraisement thrown in.

I look over at Jasper next, who is, thankfully, not aware of his girlfriend's slight ogling, as he is _also_ busy staring at RLGEWW in bewilderment.

Then, because apparently I'm a sheep, I start staring at him in bewilderment too.

This goes on for a while, because RLGEWW doesn't offer up an explanation as to why he came running and screaming down the hallway just a little while ago, so there isn't much else for us to do than continue to stare at him.

It becomes more than a little boring _really quickly_. Although it is slightly fascinating to watch as a lone drop of sweat slowly rolls down the side of Carlisle's face and neck, before disappearing into the neckline of his shirt...

"Uh... dude? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jasper eventually says, effectively disrupting the silence and my sweat-drop ogling. RLGEWW slowly raises his head and opens his eyes.

He has really pretty eyes.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Edward asks next, in a rather blunt manner. 'Blunt' seems like a really good idea in this case."Was that guy why you were running? Was he chasing you or something?"

I find it amusing how Edward doesn't sound at all incredulous or surprised. I really need to hang out with RLGEWW more often – he seems like such a fun guy.

"Yeah, you could say that," he answers as his eyes suddenly become glued to the last bit of pancake on Edward's plate. I glance up at my spankin' new boyfriend just in time to see his eyes narrow at his co-worker in a clear threat to back off. Then, as if worried that his don't-mess-with-my-food-glare isn't effective enough, Edward proceeds to stuff the pancake into his mouth, chewing it in a way that oozes massive amounts of gloat. Carlisle glares at him.

_Boys_.

I internally roll my eyes. I think there are some slightly more important things to worry about right now than the last freaking piece of pancake. "So, uh... who is he?" I ask, in an attempt to keep our conversation on track. This whole 'running down the hallway screaming'-thing really needs to be explained now.

RLGEWW looks at me and sighs.

"_That_... would be Esme's ex-boyfriend."

Everyone's faces suddenly morph into expressions of shock. Except for mine. Because I have no idea who Esme is.

"Who's Esme?" I therefore ask – naturally. If you don't know something, you ask those who do. It's normal...

... which doesn't explain why everyone is now looking at me as if I'm stupid.

I immediately bristle. "_What_?"

Edward blinks rapidly and then apologetically pats my knee, because, you know, _that doesn't make me bristle more_. "Sorry, nothing. It's nothing. Uhm, Esme is... well, she... uhm..."

Esme is really intriguing me now, seeing as how Edward can't even decide how to describe her. She must be something else, someone special.

"Esme is our boss's daughter," RLGEWW chimes in before Edward can 'uhm' and 'eh' some more. He looks at me with a weird smile, you know, one of those sad smiles you give people when you're like _rueful_ or whatever. Carlisle's version of this smile is really cute, but I'm pretty sure Edward's would be inhumanely gorgeous.

I suddenly want Edward to smile ruefully at me, just so I can see if my suspicions are true.

"And..." RLGEWW continues with his _rueful_ smile, "I just started dating her."

Everyone gives him sympathetic looks and Alice rubs his back in a consoling manner. Except for me. Because, once again, I'm lost.

"O... kay?" I say hesitantly, looking at each of them in turn.

Jazznard's facial expression indicates that he thinks I'm stupid. I want to hit him in the nads.

I am distracted from my very violent tendencies – luckily for Jazznard's balls – by Edward's voice.

"Our boss... he, uh... well, he doesn't... uhm..." Edward begins, attempting, and failing yet again, to explain something to me. Esme's family must be rather special, seeing as Edward gets lost for words over them.

"Our boss doesn't exactly want his precious daughter to date someone like me," Carlisle takes over, and now he looks even sadder. He raises his arms a little, indicating the intricate tattoos covering every inch of skin, just in case I needed clarification about what exactly he meant when he said 'someone like me'.

I feel my face instantly morphing into the twin of Alice's sympathetic expression. Poor RLGEWW.

I also dimly realise – and kinda feel a little sad about it too – that my theory that Edward and Carlisle's boss was a woman who enjoyed her man-candy and therefore only hired really hot guys, is now a total bust. I thought I'd been so clever about it, too.

"Her parents are like, super religious and stuff," Alice tells me with a wave of her hand, wide-eyed and super serious. I have no idea why Alice is so 'in the loop' about Edward and Carlisle's boss – it seems slightly unfair, since she is only dating the _roommate_ of one of the guys who works at the drugstore, while I'm _actually_ dating one of the guys who works at the drugstore. If anything, shouldn't I be the one filling Alice in on this shit?

Edward doesn't tell me enough stuff. Like the fact that his boss doesn't like tattooed man-gods. I wonder what other things are still left for me to find out about him. I'm unreasonably excited about the prospects.

"Yeah, but Esme isn't religious at all," Jasper continues, as if this is some extremely juicy gossip. "Which, I guess, is why she finally agreed to go out with Cullen here!" Jazznard slaps him on the back, earning himself a deathly glare from RLGEWW. However, Jazznard is too busy grinning at me like a girl to notice.

"So, what, you think she wouldn't go out with me if she was religious?" Carlisle demands to know, sounding very offended, and rightfully so. Jazznard really doesn't have a good sense of tact.

"What? No, I just mean, you know, if she was like... like is she was as religious as her parents? Then probably not, 'cuz they don't really like you."

I hold back a snicker as RLGEWW's glare intensifies to the level of a thousand blazing suns, actively trying to burn a hole through Jazznard's head. Again, he doesn't notice.

There must be something wrong with Jasper's survival instincts.

"I think what Jasper means is," Edward intervenes with a tired sigh – something tells me he's had to deal with these kinds of situations before, "that it's a good thing Esme isn't as fanatical and overtly religious as her parents." Here he turns to me and adds with a serious expression, "Not that there's anything wrong with being religious, because there isn't. It's just that her parents are like, _extreme_ to the point of stupidity."

"I see," I answer with a slow nod, clasping my hands in my lap. I don't actually care that much – I'm not religious at all, but you know, whatever floats your boat and stuff like that. To each their own and blah blah blah.

"And yeah... they don't really like Cullen," Edward continues, with an apologetic sidelong glance at RLGEWW. For a second, Carlisle looks like he might argue, but then he pauses, seems to think about it, and then he shrugs in resignation.

_Alrighty then_.

"But you still work for him?" I ask, because it seems strange that he would be hired if the guy didn't like him.

Carlisle actually smirks a little, as if pleased with himself. "Yeah, he took over the store just last year – I was already working there, so he couldn't fire me on the grounds of 'I just don't fucking like you.' And besides, I'm a really good employee with awesome customer-service-powers and shit, which makes it basically impossible for him to find a reason to get rid of me. So really, he's stuck with me."

Then his smirk widens into an evil, self-satisfied grin.

_He takes way too much pleasure out of this_.

"But the draw between Carlisle and Esme was just too strong for them to ignore, despite what her parents would think – they simply could not stay away from each other anymore! In an effort not to aggravate her father unnecessarily, Carlisle and Esme agreed to keep their relationship a secret," Alice tells me with great importance and a dramatic tone of voice. It sounds like she's reading off the back cover of one of those romance novels you buy at gas stations.

I want to mock her, but she doesn't take kindly to mocking (screeching, balled fists, a shrapnel of insults and a face tinged red with fury is usually Alice's go-to reaction when she's mocked) and we need to get to the _bottom_ of this running-down-the-hallway-screaming-issue.

_Bottom... Edward's bottom... Edward's ass... Edward has such a nice ass. I want to bite it._

"Oh, I see," I say slowly, vainly trying to shoo away the mental images I have right now of Edward's ass, both bare and covered in a variety of clothing. I shift subtly in my seat.

My shifting also makes me aware of the fact that I'm still dressed in Edward's shirt and SpongeBob underwear, which makes me suddenly embarrassed.

_Why has no one suggested I go get changed yet?_

"Hey, _Thumbelina_, tone it down a notch, okay? We're not a fucking romance novel," RLGEWW protests as he flicks her ear.

I gasp. He did not just do that. Alice _hates_ when people flick any part of her bod-

"Oh, knock it off," she giggles, swatting at his hand playfully. I stare in shock.

She nearly beat me to a pulp (not really) the one and only time I flicked her, and I flicked her in self-defence, I'll have you know! I was completely justified in my flicking, because she _stole_ – like a common, really obvious, sneaky thief – the last Reese's peanut butter cup _right in front of my face_. I flicked her arm, she shrieked, spat a slew of insults at me as her face blistered under the heat of her rage and then swung a pillow at my head.

Her reactions to being flicked are strangely similar to her reactions to being mocked.

"Okay, so wait... Carlisle is dating Esme, who is the daughter of your super religious boss, and because he doesn't like Carlisle all that much, he and Esme are keeping their relationship a secret?" I ask the room. "Did I get it right?"

They look at each other and nod while humming in agreement.

"Okay, good. So, where does the whole running-down-the-hallway-screaming-thing come into the picture?" I continue.

All eyes turn to RLGEWW, who does this groany-sigh thingy. I get the feeling he'd perhaps rather not be forced to tell this story.

_Ah, tough shit, Cullen. Once you come screaming your head off down a hallway and demand entry into someone's living quarters, you're kinda obligated to spills the beans. _

"Alright, well, Esme used to date this mouth-breather, Felix," Carlisle begins, throwing a hand through his golden locks. "Felix was-... or well, _is_, the kind of guy Mommy and Daddy dearest approve of. They really fucking like him, for some ungodly reason. Anyway, Esme broke it off with him a while ago, because not only is he a complete cretin, he also has this problem with his temper – as in, he likes to get into bar fights for shits and giggles."

All of our eyebrows go up as one.

"Yeah, he's a fun guy," Carlisle says sarcastically in response to our freaky synchronised-eyebrow thing. "Also, he's kinda convinced himself that he and Esme are like, 'on a break' and that they'll get back together soon."

"Oh, like Ross and Rachel!" Alice chimes in delightfully.

"But they weren't on a break, that's the whole point," Jazznard argues.

"They were too! Rachel said 'Maybe we should take a break', and then Ross thinks she means a break from their argument and suggests going out for some air or something, then Rachel says 'No, I mean a break from _us_' and then Ross storms out of the apartment and hooks up with photocopy-place girl! They were totally on a break!"

"Yeah, but-... oh, no – wait, yeah, you're right. Sorry, baby."

Then they smile angelically at each other over RLGEWW. _Lameos. _

"That was the most pointless interruption in the history of ever," Edward responds helpfully.

Alice blows a raspberry in his direction, obviously feeling entitled to this gesture, before returning her attention to Cullen, who has been busying himself with picking his nails during their Friends-debate.

"Oh, were you done? Awesome. Anyway, as I was saying – Felix has somehow got it into his sorry excuse of a brain that he and Esme never actually broke up, and of course – to make matters worse – her parents are of the same mindset. They're totally convinced Felix is the perfect guy for her, and have been trying to persuade her to take him back, and – since they're so buddy-buddy with Felix – they've been encouraging him to like, 'woo' Esme and shit.

"So basically, he occasionally follows her around and tries to sweet-talk her, which obviously doesn't work, because he was dropped on his head as a child."

RLGEWW seems to be very passive-aggressive about this whole thing.

"Anyway, Esme and I were on a date last night and we ended up back at her place, where I spent the night."

"And then this morning, we went out for like some... brunch-y, lunch thing," Carlisle continues, waving his hands a little in a circular motion. "Then I walked her back home, and kissed her good-bye."

RLGEWW pauses for a dramatic effect, but as he starts speaking again, he seems to have taken a sip of Angry juice because his voice just gets progressively louder and growly-er.

"Just as Mr. McMouthbreather-can't-take-a-fucking-hint-douchebag-moron just _happens_ to be walking down the fucking street, with a big fucking bunch of fucking roses. So he sees me kissing what the fucking dumbass thinks is _his_ girlfriend, and since he has that _shitty_ fucking problem with his fucking temper, he charges at me like a stupid fucking bull, screaming his tiny fucking pea-brain head off!"

RLGEWW is really hot when he pants and clenches his fists and trembles with badly suppressed rage and grinds his teeth together so that you can see the muscles in his jaw moving in an extremely manly, sexy way.

This is, of course, a completely clinical and objective observation. Completely. No personal input or opinion, at all. Nope, none. Zilch. Ze-ro. Totally clinical and objective.

_Ahem_.

"So... what happened?" Alice asks, eyes trained firmly on Carlisle's jaw. He takes a few deep breathes in an effort to calm down a little more, but he still seems pretty angry about the whole thing. Not that I blame him – if Edward had like, a crazy ex-girlfriend who couldn't take a hint and stalked him all the time, trying to win him back by giving him SpongeBob paraphernalia, I'd be pretty pissed too.

"Well, I wasn't really sure what the fuck to do – I've never been in a situation where a grown man the size of a rhino and with the IQ of a hairball comes running down the street, screaming really rude things at me while wielding a bouquet of flowers. I was just kinda, flailing around a bit, but then Esme grabbed me and said, really seriously: 'Run.' So, I did. And then he chased me and then there was this whole big thing, and then, yeah... here I am."

He finishes off his story by giving us jazz hands. It's kinda neat, in a way.

We all nod slowly. I do it because it seems appropriate to give him some sort of acknowledgement. I can't speak for the rest of these weirdoes though.

"So... what are you going to do now? I mean, since Felix was mad enough to chase you all the way here, don't you think he might try to smash your face in at the next golden opportunity handed to him?" Edward asks this in a very tentative voice. He's so smart; I never even thought of that until now.

Apparently, neither did Carlisle, because he goes from slightly red, due to his rage, to a sickly white so quickly I'm worried about his health. That just can't be good for him.

"Oh Jesus christ, I hope not," he mumbles, staring at Edward in horror as he no doubt imagines the damage and pain this Felix dude's fist can do to his pretty face.

"Hey, do you think he'll tell Esme's parents? Didn't you say they were like _this_?" Alice asks, holding up two entwined fingers.

Carlisle now turns to stare at her with even more horror etched into his features and his skin goes an even sicklier white with a tinge of green. It's kind of hilarious how it seems he hasn't given these things any thought at all and how the possibilities of what might happen evoke such fear in him.

I wonder how scared we could all get him, if we really tried. I'm tempted to pose another question of epically awful what-if-ness to him, but I think that might be rather cruel.

Fun, but cruel.

"Oh god," he then groans, dumping his face into his palms as he leans forward. He then starts rocking back and forth in his seat.

This is slightly worrisome.

"_Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god... fuck, fuck, fuck…_"

And now he's chanting. This can't be good.

"Uh... hey..." Jasper says lamely, cautiously giving Carlisle a few pats on the back, "I'm sure it's not, you know, that bad... uhm..."

Jazznard then begs me for help with his eyes. Clearly he doesn't handle emotional situations very well.

"Yeah, I mean, what's the worst that can happen?" I offer, because Jazznard kind of put me on the spot with that I-need-help-look, and generic responses were all that came to mind. "It's not like he can fire you for dating his daughter, right?"

"No, but he can make my life a living hell just to get me back. I foresee changes in my schedule and constantly getting told to clean up the bathrooms."

"Oh... right." Didn't think about that.

Wow. Guess he's fucked.

"Dude, maybe you should call Esme? Let her know her moronic ex-boyfriend didn't kill you?" Edward suggests gently after a moment of silence where we all pondered the pure hell of cleaning public bathrooms.

"Oh, right. Shit. Yeah. Okay, I'll be right back," Carlisle says, slightly flustered as he rises from the couch and starts digging into his very tight, black pants for his phone.

I am _not_ forced to actively hinder my eyes from glancing at his package.

_Ahem_.

Carlisle takes his phone conversation into Edward's bedroom, but it's not until the door closes behind him that I realise that this is a very bad thing.

I get a quick panic attack because I remember the state in which we left that room this morning: the bed is still unmade and rumbled, and not only are my clothes spread all over the room, my underwear is lying somewhere on the floor. In plain sight. My twisted, obviously-flung-from-the-bed-right-before-sex underwear.

_Those_ underwear.

Not good. Oh my god, so not good. This is so bad, this is so embarrassing!

I want to die.

I need to take my mind off this. I need to _not_ think about the fact that Carlisle is meandering around in Edward and mine's love den, possibly checking out my date-night-undies.

My mind goes to very strange places when I want to distract myself from embarrassing situations.

"So, hey, if your boss hates Carlisle so much for having tattoos and stuff, what about Autumn Pixie Peace? She's even weirder than he is."

While Jazznard and Alice look confused by the name Autumn Pixie Peace – they should be glad I didn't call her wanna-be-vamp/goth/emo/witch/potentially-soulless-girl – Edward is used to my name for his co-worker and immediately understands who I'm talking about.

"Heather's their niece," he explains to me.

Oh. "Well, that doesn't seem fair."

"I know, it's really not. She gets all the best shifts and stuff."

"Oh." I pause before I continue in a conversational tone, "Your boss is kind of an ass."

A small, adorable chuckle escapes him and he nods in agreement. "Definitely. I try not to think about him too much – it makes my brain hurt."

««◊UtS◊»»

"I don't want to go to work," I mumble into Edward's chest, twisting myself closer to him.

"Me neither..." he responds quietly, drawing slow circles on my shoulder with one of his fingers.

We've been holed up in his room for the past three hours now. Carlisle left not long after his phone call to Esme – she claimed Felix was long gone at that point, so he decided to risk going back over to her place. Alice and Jasper then decided to watch a movie, so Edward and I retreated into his room for some more alone-time before we had to go be grown-ups and have responsibilities and go to work so we could do grown-up stuff like pay our bills and buy food.

Food is so overrated.

Edward's chest is probably the most comfortable place on the earth. I could lie on it all day long – just letting time slip by as I take in his scent and listen to his heartbeats and feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and feel him up from time to time.

I'm feeling him up right now. I'm resting my hand on his abs while trying to make it look casual and stuff.

I don't know if I'm very successful. To make up for my shameless gropage, I press my boobs into him. Why? I don't know, why not? He likes my boobs.

And they like him. A lot_._

We remain quite for a while, enjoying our comfortable silence. I could never do this kind of stuff with Alec. He wouldn't be able to spend three hours with me like this; just lying in bed, cuddling, occasionally watching TV. He always wanted to do intellectual stuff, like study, or study, or read a book or, for variation, study.

But Edward seems more than willing to do this with me, and I'm just... I'm just so happy. I'm actually a really sappy, romantic lovely-dovey girl, and I've always wanted to believe these sort of things really happen between two people, but maybe I've been too cynical to _actually_ believe it occurs. It almost feels a little unreal that I could have had this perfect, undisclosed afternoon with him, with no expectations or labels or silly ideas of what we 'should' do to replace the things we actually _want_ to do.

I guess it just seems a little too good to be true, except that it is true. It _is_ true that Edward is my boyfriends. It _is_ true that he is the sweetest, hottest, kindest guy I have ever met. It _is_ true that he wants to spend time with me and it _is_ true that he likes it when I randomly reach down to hold his hand as we watch TV together. It _is_ true that I really, really, really _like_ him... so much. So, so much and it _is_ true that I can see myself liking him even more in the future, liking him in such a way that I might fall for him, and if I do I really hope he'll be falling with me.

"Hey... want to do something tomorrow?" Edward murmurs into the top of my head, letting his hand slip from my shoulder to the dip of my waist.

"I'd love to. Any ideas?"

"Not really... let's just hang out, and we'll see what we can come up with."

I smile into his chest and nod. "Sounds good to me."

"Good," he murmurs back through an audible smile. He then starts gently shifting around on the bed until we're lying on our sides, facing each other. His kisses are soft, perfect and unhurried, with no underlying agenda. They're just about kissing me and holding me close and being with me so effortlessly. I can think of no way to make this moment any better.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. **

**Love, **

**/Vic**


	10. The Skin Care Aisle

**Chapter 10: The Skin Care Aisle**

EPOV

The Skin Care aisle at work conjures up very mixed feelings for me.

On the one hand, I love going down there, because it's where Bella and I met for the first time. It's one of the few places I get the opportunity to be sentimental. Not that I would ever admit that to a living, breathing creature. Never ever. Not even to a snail.

On the other hand though, I hate going down there, because when Bella and I first met, the series of events that occurred convinced me of two things. One; Bella's my dream girl. Two; scratching her back really turns me on. Like, _really_ turns me on. It turns me on so much, you'd think we stocked porn down there.

Being really turned on as soon as you walk into the Skin Care aisle at work is bad. In fact, it's so bad it borders on disturbing.

It's like my brain has a recording of Bella's sex noises – I imagine it as a tape labelled '_Bella's sex noises/Instant boner inducer'_ – hidden somewhere in the pervier corners of my mind, like in the figurative cerebral nightstand drawer, underneath a car magazine and a handful of coins from Peru.

All I have to do now is catch sight of the large sign hanging from the ceiling, proudly proclaiming the location of our skin care products, and my inner caveman digs out the tape and starts playing it. A low echo of Bella moaning, groaning and hissing my name instantly starts torturing me.

Then, the closer I get to the aisle, the louder her moans become, until I'm standing in the exact spot where she pushed her ass into my dick. As in, until I can hear her as loudly and clearly as if she was standing right in front of me. As in, until stocking the shelves with bottles of lotion makes me hard.

Every. Single. Time.

I feel like a pervy, sick degenerate, getting hard at my place of employment all the fucking time, but I can't help it. It's like a conditioned response – 'skin care' now equals Bella moaning, groaning, hissing and writhing underneath my touch, which in turn leads to a humongous party in my pants.

It once got so bad that I had to go rub one out in the bathroom. It was not one of my finest moments. Not only was the idea of jerking it at work kinda off-putting to begin with, it's also incredibly difficult to play with yourself when Jesus is staring down at you.

It was quite the shock to all of us when Mr. Platt's first decision as store manager was to mount a stupidly large painting of Jesus surrounded by baby cherubs and doves above the toilet. Gasps of terror could be heard whenever someone entered the staff restroom that day.

I don't care that Jesus is supposed to be forgiving and kind and all that crap – when I came into a wad of paper that day, I swear to god I could feel his judgemental gaze burning into the side of my head. He did not approve of all those gametes being literally flushed down the toilet.

I don't think the cherubs and doves liked it very much either.

Why Mr. Platt decided to hang the painting in the _bathroom_ of all places had always been a bit of a mystery to me until that day. It was only after my angst-filled self-pleasuring session, where Jesus' disapproving eyes glared down at my frantic movements, that I came up with a theory. I think it's Mr. Platt's way of saying 'just because there are no surveillance cameras here in the bathroom like in the rest of the store, don't think you can do some kind of funny business – _Jesus is watching!_'

Creepy-assed stuck-up old man.

Clearly his tactic didn't work, since I still managed to jerk my disco stick in there, but I don't think he really counted on having such perverted employees as me, so who can really blame the guy for not thinking of a better way to stop us?

My foray into pleasuring-myself-while-Jesus-watches-me-in-the-staff-restroom occupation was thankfully a one-time thing only. Hopefully, anyway. I always dread my time in the Skin Care aisle will induce a chubby so insistent that another visit to the Jesus-Room is inevitable.

I sigh and walk with trepidation towards the aisle of such conflicting emotions, willing my inner caveman to turn down the volume on Bella's Greatest Hits. It's like it's become the soundtrack to all my erections. So not cool.

It's even worse now that Bella and I have actually had sex – _mental high-five_ – because now I not only _hear_ her sex noises, I _see_ her; I see flashes of her facial expression when she comes, I see her lips trembling around a moan, I see her hair fanned out on a pillow.

It's excruciating, really, and it would be very helpful if my inner cavemen could please just listen to me, just this once, and allow me to have a normal reaction to the Skin Care aisle.

My inner caveman is as slow as molasses stuck up a snowman's ass in the centre of a glacier. Bella's Greatest Hits just keeps getting progressively louder in my head with every step I take and there is nothing I can do to stop the dull thudding now starting up in my groin.

I imagine all the products sympathetically mumbling 'Perv man walking...' as I slowly shuffle past them towards my doom, pushing a cart in front of me.

I've never claimed to be particularly sane.

Trying to ignore the sex noises running through my brain right now is just about as easy as convincing my mother I'm not her little baby boy anymore. So basically, it's impossible. I give myself an A+ for effort though.

I pass an old lady who abandons studying the back of a box of hair colour in favour of looking up at me. I attempt my best 'normal' smile, rather than a smile that conveys that I will be sporting a painfully hard dick in just a few minutes. I don't think I'm successful. Her eyes widen for a second before a suspicious glare takes over. My smile slowly fades from my face, and I hurry up my steps before the party in my pants gets loud enough that she'll issue a complaint.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Platt would fire me without a moment's hesitation should he be told about my... _situation_. He'd probably lecture me on what Jesus would say of my behaviour first though, before kicking me out of the store.

I come to a slow stop at the mouth of the aisle, staring down into my demise. My hands flex around the cart's handle as my palms start to sweat and my skin whitens over my knuckles.

I'm afraid of a boner.

_Jesus christ... I just lost a bajillion man-points_.

I drop my chin to my chest and glare down at my traitorous groin.

"You're a douche," I hiss with as much spite as I can possibly conjure up, although given that I'm talking to my dick, that's not really saying a lot.

I sigh and once again turn my gaze to the Hallway of Doom and Lotions.

I feel kinda bad about being mean to my dick now. It's not like any of this is his fault, poor guy. I only have myself to blame, really. I mean, if you spend two months fantasising and daydreaming about your perfect girl, re-living the moment she sex-noised you into boner-heaven in the Skin Care aisle, it's not like it's a huge surprise when the mere sight of that aisle makes you hard.

It's _embarrassing_, but not surprising.

And if you then start dating that perfect girl, it's _really_ not surprising when your fantasies just get worse and more imaginative.

Again, it's embarrassing, but not surprising.

I sigh, figuratively grab myself by the balls and get to work.

As I slowly move along the shelves, throwing up bottles and jars of lotions and potions, I try my hardest to think of anything that will stop the throbbing Boner Fest in my pants.

'_Oh, god... oh, fuck, yes right there, oh fuck yes, yes, oh...!'_

"Stop it, stop it, stop it, you perv," I murmur to myself as Bella's Greatest Hits blares through my brain at full volume.

"10 more minutes, 10 more minutes, only 10 more minutes," I remind myself. In 10 more minutes, I can leave this shithole and go pick up Bella from work. Then we'll go back to her place, have dinner and talk about our day and I'll pretend to be a normal person. Then, as soon as she's done with her food, I'll throw her over my shoulder, run into her bedroom, deposit her on the bed – probably very ungracefully and not very gently – and then ravish her all night long.

I doubt she'll mind.

My inner caveman will probably also be very pleased, and when he's pleased, I'm pleased. So really, it's a win-win-win-win situation, since Bella, my inner caveman, my dick and myself will all be very, very _pleased_.

"10 more minutes, Edward – come on, you can do this." My attempted pep-talk fails miserably.

'_Yes, yes, oh, fuck, yes, right there-... _harder!_ Harder, oh god, so good..._'

My forehead meets the shelf in front of me with a metallic clank.

My forehead now hurts.

Awesome.

"Edward? What the hell are you doing?"

I snap up and stare around wildly. Oh my god, I've gone insane. I swear to the Jesus painting in the bathroom that I just heard Bella's voice _right_ next to-

Oh. She _is_ right next to me. I stare in confusion at my pretty girlfriend, who is staring right back at me.

She shouldn't be here right now, I'm picking her up at the restaurant in half an hour. Why is she-... Oh god. My insanity must've stepped up another notch, and I'm now hallucinating. I mean, she looks real enough, but I don't know if that proves anything, because isn't that kinda the point of hallucinations? That they look real to the hallucinator, but aren't?

"Bella?" I feel the need to pose her name as a question, because I honestly have no idea if she's real or not. Should I touch her? Pinch myself? She'll think I'm weird – unless she's an hallucination – but she kinda knows that about me already, so I'm not too worried. She did, after all, agree to be my girlfriend despite my weirdness.

"Yeah. What are you doing?"

She gestures to the shelf and quirks her eyebrows at me. I take a quick random second to appreciate how perfect her eyebrows are.

"Uhm..." _Wow, great use of your vocabulary there, idiot._

I shrug quickly, because telling her that being in this part of the store gives me a boner is not something I want to do.

_Change the subject, change the subject..._

"What are you doing here?"

_Yeah, smooth. That's not a stupid, overtly obvious subject-change at all. _

_Idiot. _

She frowns at me. She crosses her arms at me. She stares me down.

_Be a man, Masen! Don't give in, don't give in..._

"Did you get off work early?" I continue, hoping to distract her.

"Yeah, there was an incident-" a flippant hand wave "-but what were you doing?"

"An incident?" I cleverly ignore her attempt to bring the subject back to me. Plus, I kinda want to further investigate the reasons behind her sudden appearance here, so it's all good.

"Some guy got a little touchy-feely, so I-"

"What?"

"What?"

"Some guy touched you?" I step closer to her, feeling anger rise in me. I have no idea who this douche-bag is, but he _dared_ lay a hand on _my_ girlfriend? I want to bash his face in. I want to find out his name, follow him home, knock on his door and when he opens it, I want to ram my fists right into his ugly, pudgy, assholey little face and-

"Oh, no, not me. Well, not at first anyway. No, he kept pinching Jake's ass whenever he walked by, and Jake was really freaking out about it – and oh my god, you should have heard him, he was like afraid that getting pinched on the ass by a dude meant he was like gay by association, it was stunning how stupid he was – anyway, so I switched tables with him to be nice and get him out of the touchy-feely dudes reach, but Touchy-Feely Dude wasn't very pleased with that and kept asking where Jake went and he'd stop me all the time when I went past him and it got really annoying when he kept grabbing my elbow and shit, so I told him to eat his food and stop grabbing the waiters, and he _really_ didn't like that, so he went to complain to my boss, but when I told him about Jake and stuff, and how all the other customers were giving Touchy-Feely Dude some weird glances, he basically gave me a pat on the back and told me to take off early. You should have seen Touchy-Feely Dude's face, it was fucking hilarious!"

She takes her third breath since she began her enthusiastic story and giggle-snorts. She's so cute when she does that.

_Anyhoo..._

"Wait, hang on, who's Jake?"

"Just some new waiter-guy – he started like last week. He's kinda... 'slow', if you know what I mean." She air-quotes dramatically.

"Huh," I remark slowly. My neighbour growing up had a dog named Jake. Jake chased me up a tree when I was seven and wouldn't let me down for several hours. Jake also had a penchant for taking dumps on our front yard. A front yard I was responsible for mowing when I grew older.

Ever tried mowing a lawn sprinkled with dog poo? Yeah... don't.

Needless to say, I don't like the name Jake and therefore, I unjustifiably don't like Bella's new co-worker either.

"Slow how?"

"What do you mean 'how'? What do you think?"

"Well, seeing as he's a waiter, you might be talking about him being slow at his job."

"No, he's slow in the head. Much like you are right now. I air-quoted – duh. Obviously I mean that he's dense, stupid, a nail short of a-... whatever that saying is."

"Oh. Right."

She blinks at me once or twice.

"This is a stupid conversation, isn't it?"

"Yeah, a bit," she agrees, nodding with a shrug.

"Right. Well, uh, I'm almost done here, but then we can take off- wait, how did you get here?"

"Bus."

"Oh, right. Well, yeah, I'm almost done here, so if you wanna-"

"This is gonna sound so weird, but I'm kinda getting turned on by being back here."

Bella says this as calmly as if she was simply remarking on the weather. Her eyes slowly wander around the aisle as she purses her lips and quirks her head to the side. I, however, do not react quite as calmly.

I'm pretty sure my dick twitches violently, recognising his kindred spirit.

"You-... what?"

_Smooth. That crack in your voice was very manly, Mason. Throw in a girly squeak next time – that'll impress her._

_Idiot_.

Her gaze moves from the shelf to her right and she looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Her head slowly follows the movement and she seems to be taking in my reaction to her statement. I might be imagining the way her cheeks go just a little red, and she suddenly looks a little more shy than she did before.

I don't know why I think that's hot. My dick doesn't really care what the reason is. He just throbs away, happy as a clam despite his general IQ deficiency.

"Well, you know..." Bella laughs down her nose and shuffles her feet a little. The way she then looks up at me through her lashes, while biting her lip for just a second, makes me want to fuck her, right there, up against the shelves.

Damn these surveillance cameras!

"It-... it brings back memories and stuff, being here," she continues shyly, gesturing at the lotions. "That back-scratch you gave me was just... wow." And then she giggles.

_Oh dear god, my penis is aching. Want. To be. Inside. Her. Oh dear god, please_.

Now it's my turn to make sex-noises in the _Skin Care_ aisle. I groan quietly under my breath, and I actually need to reach out and grab a hold of a shelf to keep myself from jumping her. Seriously.

"Bella... I swear to god, if there weren't cameras in the ceiling, I'd rip all your clothes off and do you on the floor, right now."

Oops_._

_Shit. Didn't really mean to say that out loud_.

I hold my breath in horror over what I just said. I can't believe I said that. I didn't mean to. I mean, I _would_ rip all her clothes off, but I didn't need to fucking tell her that!

_Oh god, idiot, idiot, idiot, perv, moron, oh god, oh god, oh god, idiot, you suck._

I can only deduce that those words fell from my mouth because my _little_ brain managed to override my _big_ brain for a few devastating seconds. Only my dick could have thought telling Bella I wanted to get her naked in a drug store would be a good idea.

Bella's silence following my boner's word vomit is very... ominous. I chance a glance at her.

Her mouth is hanging open as she stares at me and when I meet her eyes she... she starts... panting. Like, really panting, with her boobs moving up and down dramatically. It's very distracting; my eyeballs start to hurt as they volley back and forth between her face and her chest.

I'm pretty sure I have never wanted anything as badly as I want to put my face in her cleavage right now.

"Oh god, Edward. Usually a statement like that would make me laugh my ass off, but I'm already all tingly and stuff just from being here-" she motions around the aisle "-that I just-... I-... you have to-... Jesus, can't we leave now? Please? I want to go home and have sex with you for at least two hours. Like, now. Can we go? Please? Let's leave. Come on. Why aren't you moving?"

She takes a step closer to me, desperation and horniness the most prevailing emotions on her pretty face. It's a ridiculously sexy look on her. The fact that I've been hard for-... well, for a while, and that I'm already feeling desperate and horny myself, probably makes me think she's sexier than I would normally think – and that's really saying a lot, because I always think she's mindblowingly hot - but it is what it is.

And what it is, is an expression on her face that almost makes me pass out because I'm pretty sure I have no blood left in my brain.

Not my big one, anyway.

"I can't go yet," I suddenly hear myself say. What, now my boner suddenly sees fit to let the reasonable part of me speak? He really is a moron. "10 more minutes."

"No, we can go _now_."

"I can't, Bella."

"Yes, you really can. It's easy – we walk out of those doors, past Talks To Cabbage Heads Lady, jump into your car, speed on over to my place, rip off all our clothes and proceed to hump like bunnies on my bed."

"Stop trying to make me leave work early."

"I'm _trying_ to get you laid, dumbass."

"Dude, I've had a boner for like 30 minutes – I'm well aware of the fact that you're propositioning me, and believe me, _I want to_. I just can't go yet. A few more minutes."

"You've had a boner for 30 minutes?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

"Don't say 'come' like that."

"Why? Does it make you want to... _come_?"

"Stop it."

"Why have you had a boner for 30 minutes?"

"Because I-... it's-... I can't, like... I'm like Pavlov's dogs – being in this aisle makes me hard, because I think of you and the sounds you-... why am I telling you this?"

"Because all the blood in your boner is making you stupid."

"I was just thinking that."

"Ah, see – I'm smart. Which is why we should _leave now_ and go have sex, like I've said fifty million times."

"Bella, I can't. Mr. Platt would kill me."

"I'm sure he'll understand when you explain the situation to him. So, _come_ on. Move. Walk. _Come_ on."

"He's a religious fanatic, Bella. I really don't think he'll let me leave early from work because I want to go home and sex up my girlfriend."

"Well, that's not very nice."

"You're incredibly impatient when you're horny."

"I know, it's a problem I'm not willing to fix."

"I don't want you to fix it either. I think it's hot."

"You're hot. So let's go. I want you out of those pants."

"Bella, stop tempting me. I just have to put these bottles up real quick, and then we can go."

"No, _come_ now. _Come_ on, you know you want to. I'm sure you can _come_ up with some white little lie to tell your boss."

"Stop saying 'come' like that."

"I will if you _come_ with me right now."

"Bell-laaaah... If you don't stop, I'm pretty sure I'll _come_ in my pants, and then I'll be of no use to you."

Her eyes go wide and she looks horrified. She instantly shuts up.

_Hah. That'll teach her. _

_Teach her what? That her boyfriend ejaculates into his underwear without any physical stimulation? Yeah, you show her who's boss, stud. _

_... Shut up._

I open my mouth to say something else – probably something completely inane and perverse – when a surprisingly loud female voice from one aisle over interrupts me.

"Wait... pregnancy tests?"

The woman's voice has a screechy, extremely unpleasant quality to it. I feel my boner deflate just a little bit from the sound alone.

Bella quirks an eyebrow at me as another female voice answers the first one.

"Yeah, just... shut up, okay? God." Woman number 2's eye roll is actually audible, as are the obnoxious smacks of her gum-chewing. I can't even see her, but I bet she's just about as smart as a small squirrel.

"Why haven't you told me? Who's the dad?"

There's a tense silence coming from the other side. Bella and I stare at each other, wide-eyed with anticipation.

"God, I don't know, okay? Stop looking at me like that," Woman number 2 exclaims suddenly.

Bella's jaw drops in delight over this juicy scandal regarding complete strangers. I have to admit, I'm way more fucking intrigued than I should be, too.

"Vicki! What do you mean, you 'don't know'? How can you not know?"

"Just shut up, okay? This isn't like, easy for me you know! I'm like, really scared."

"Well, yeah, but... I mean, what happened?"

"Well, it was like, a month ago or something-" smack-smack-smack of her gum "-and I went out with that bitch, Tanya?"

"Oh my god, she's such a shank."

"I know, right? I hate her. Anyway, we went out for some drinks and we met these two like, really hot guys, James and... I can't remember his name, but Tanya sank her whore-claws into him anyway. You know how she is."

Screechy Woman agrees with a barking laugh. Bella puts her hand over her mouth, gleeful shock beaming off her face. I press my lips together to keep from laughing at the expression on her face.

"Anyway, they like, bought us lots of drinks and stuff, so we went home with them," Woman number 2 – or 'Vicki', as her friend had called her – continues.

Then the conversation takes a very unpleasant turn.

"We were in the other guys car, driving over to his place, when Tanya like, started giving him road-head, so he pulled over and parked the car or whatever. And then he and Tanya started like, doing it in the front seat. James and I got really bored, so he went down on me and stuff."

_What. The. Fuck_.

"_WHAT?_" Bella mouths at me, looking just as revolted as I feel. Jesus fuck, who _are_ these people?

Screechy Woman makes a noise somewhere between a 'duh' and a 'well, yeah'.

Okay, no – seriously, who ARE these people?

"Anyway, Tanya's guy finished really quickly," Vicki continues with a snort, "but at that point, James and I were like, ready to go, you know?"

"Yeah, of course – who wouldn't be?"

"Right, but James didn't have like, a condom or anything and the other guy had used the only one he had, so I was like, worried we wouldn't do it."

"Oh no! What did you do?"

"Well, actually, the other guy was like, really sweet – he gave James the one he'd used. He was like, 'Wouldn't want to cockblock ya, buddy!' It was so sweet!"

"Aaaww!"

Oh my god. I think I might vomit. Bella makes hulking movements as her body tries to expel the contents of her stomach. She grabs hold of the shelf next to her for support, clasping a hand desperately over her mouth.

_This is so sick. How have these people even survived past toddler-hood? _

"Anyway, so James just turned it inside out."

I bend over at the waist, fully expecting vomit to hurl out of me. The really sad thing is that I would have to clean it up myself, since I work here.

I've had to clean vomit from these floors more times than I care to recall. It's really not a pleasant experience.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." Bella whispers quietly enough so that the two women won't hear her, completely grossed out.

I don't think I have ever heard a story more disgusting than this. I seriously did not see this coming when Vicki started her tale of epic grossness.

"Okay, but like... you're pregnant now, or what?" Screechy Woman continues.

"Yeah, I might be, I don't know. I fucking hope not," Vicki answers, laughing.

_I hope so too, Vicki. We _all_ hope so. You shouldn't be passing those genes on to your offspring. Ever._

"But wait... how can you be pregnant if you used a condom?"

Bella and I raise our heads and look at each other in tandem. She really can't be that stupid, can she?

"No way..." Bella whispers in denial. She clearly cannot believe Screechy Woman could be that dense.

"I know, right? But like, I thought about it and stuff, because I'm like two weeks late and that never happens, so I don't know what else it could be. And then I like, remembered how when James took it off, he said something about it being broken, so I don't know."

"It broke? What the fuck? You could sue the condom company for that, you know – they're not supposed to break."

_They might if you re-use them, you idiot._

"You think?"

"Yeah, totally."

"I probably could do that! Daddy has a great lawyer."

"Yeah, totally. But wait, you said you didn't know who the dad was – you only had sex with James, you idiot."

Bella mimes banging her head against the shelf.

"I know, that's what I thought at first, but remember how James like, turned the condom inside-out?"

"Yeah...?"

"Yeah, so the other guys stuff was like, on the outside. I mean, James wiped it off a little, but like, I googled it, and apparently the other guy's sperm could've gotten into me that way."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I know, it's so weird. It really doesn't take much of that stuff for you to get pregnant."

"No way."

"Yes way! No one's ever told me that before. How are we like, supposed to know that? You'd think one of those sex-ed classes would have mentioned it."

_Oh my god. Oh my god. Seriously, oh my god. I was wrong – she isn't as stupid as a small squirrel. She's stupider._

"Totally. So, which one are you going to get?"

"I don't know, I better like, take a few. Just to be sure."

Then follows the sound of multiple boxes of pregnancy tests being thrown into a shopping basket.

Bella and I continue to just stare at each other in horror. I can't believe we actually heard that story. I cannot believe two people as idiotic as those women actually exist. It boggles the mind. It boggles the mind and then slaps it around a bit.

"Do you think that's enough?"

"Yeah. Oh hey, we better pick up something for you to drink too – you'll need to like, pee _so much_!"

"We should get vodka – it just goes straight through me!"

Screechy Woman laughs in agreement and Bella looks even more horrified. Her jaw drops open and she turns to glare through the shelves at the idiot women who are apparently going to drink vodka in order to take a few pregnancy tests. I really hope they all come out negative.

"All right, let's go," Vicki announces, and their steps start clicking down the aisle.

I suddenly realise that they'll have to pass the mouth of the Skin Care aisle to get to the cash register, and when they do, they'll see me and Bella and realise we've overheard them.

I don't know why this makes me panic, but I grab Bella's elbow and run in the opposite direction nonetheless. Her squeak of surprise would sound hilarious were I not running away in blind panic from the two single most idiotic women I have ever encountered.

I round the corner of the aisle and pull Bella into me, ignoring her angry 'WHAT-THE-FUCK'-face and make a shushing gesture. I peek carefully down the aisle were Screechy Woman and Vicki were, breathing a sigh of relief when I find it empty. I loosen my grip on Bella's forearms and smile down at her.

She slaps at my chest.

"What the fuck, Edward! What was that for?"

Her cute little nostrils flare as her eyebrows hunch down angrily over her eyes. Is there no facial expression she can make that I won't find either pretty, beautiful or cute?

"I just didn't want 'Vicki' and her fellow idiot BFF to see us. They had to walk past our aisle to get to the register."

"Oh. _Oh_, right. Clever!"

"Yeah."

We look at each other. I still don't think the shock of what we just overheard has settled in. In fact, it may take a while before I can think back on this moment without going 'Je_sus christ, that didn't really happen, did it?_'

"I can't believe that just happened," Bella remarks after a while, echoing my thoughts.

"Me neither. I-... it's like... I didn't even know people that stupid existed."

"It's a wonder they haven't accidentally killed themselves by chewing on wires."

I laugh and rub a hand down my face. I also suddenly realise that my dick is in no way, shape or form ready for humping like bunnies. I think he's traumatised.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind terribly if we just had dinner and watched a movie tonight? I think my dick needs some time to recover from that story."

"I really wouldn't mind that at all. I think my vag has sealed itself shut for the night."

I smile and bend down to kiss her quickly, mindful of the cameras.

"All right then. I just need to finish up here quickly, and then we'll go, okay?"

"Okay." We start walking back up the aisle until we reach my abandoned cart. Bella pauses as I start putting up the last bottles of lotion.

"Do you think they've left yet?"

"Who, Vicki and her BFF? Yeah, probably. They'll need to go buy vodka before she can start peeing on sticks."

"Let's pray to any and all deities that they turn out negative."

"Yes, let's."

Bella snorts and then pats my chest a little. "I'll see you up front in a few minutes," she says with a small smile before walking away.

I very unsubtly check out her ass as she leaves. I may not be in the mood for sex right now, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, swaying enticingly from side to side.

As she disappears out of sight, I sigh despondently and finish stocking the shelves. I actively try to _not_ think about the conversation that took place on the other side of said shelves.

I fail miserably.

When I'm finally done with my work, I've thought about the story we overheard so much, I'm feeling a little nauseated. I'm pretty convinced all four of those people would do the world a huge favour if they went and got neutered, lest they pass their genes off to some poor, unfortunate child.

I don't think humanity could handle that much idiocy.

As I finally get to leave all the lotions behind, I realise that there might have been at least one bright spot to overhearing that balls-creeping-up-into-your-body-inducing story – I highly doubt the Skin Care aisle will give me a boner ever again.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

**Until next time, **

**/Vic**


	11. The Thinking

**Chapter 11: The Thinking**

BPOV

I think I'm falling in love with Edward Masen.

It's a suspicion I've had for quite some time now, and one that gets reaffirmed on a really regular basis. Whenever Edward does anything cute, or funny, or silly, or sweet, or weird, or annoying, or boring, or teasing, or hot, or basically anything more evolved than breathing and staring into space, I swear I feel my heart flutter, which is really strange, seeing as how I shouldn't want my heart to flutter for several reasons. One, because it doesn't sound either physically possible or healthy in the medical sense, and two, because fluttering things scare the shit out of me. Butterflies are freaks of nature.

I digress.

It's mostly the little things that generate this I'm-all-a-flutter-feeling in me. The small Edward-y things that no one does quite like him. The things that make him Edward.

I think it's been going on for a while now, this falling-in-love shindig. Ever since we met that fateful night at the drugstore, I've had certain... _feelings_... for him. Granted, my girly parts were the ones to be most affected in the beginning, what with their lusting and drooling and moaning his name and all, but it didn't really take that long before my heart wanted a piece of the man-pie that is Edward.

Now that I'm pretty sure of my emotional attachment to him, I've become a bit (okay, a lot) obsessed with trying to pinpoint exactly _where_ and _when_ I took my first love-stumble.

Through hours and hours of soul-searching I've come to the conclusion that I first started falling for him the day he was really sick and I came over to seduce him.

When he fell asleep on my stomach while we watched SpongeBob, something very reminiscent of the I'm-all-a-flutter-feeling occurred. It was like this weird, but really awesome warmth going on in the general area of my heart. Warm and gooey.

I've now been carefully noting when this warmth appears, and it only seems to happen around Edward, when he does those Edward-y things.

The only conclusion I can come to is this: warm fluttering of my heart while staring at my boyfriend eating a cookie while lying on the floor for no other reason than 'I like the floor', equals falling in love.

Other moments that have inspired this particular sensation would be like, when he asked me to be his girlfriend, because he was completely adorable and I really wanted to be his girlfriend.

Or the time I didn't have my car because Alice had borrowed it, and he surprised me by picking me up from work at 11 pm, driving me home but not staying the night because he had to get up really early, just so I wouldn't have to walk to the bus-stop in the rain.

Or when he tried to teach his half-deaf grandma what Google is and how to use it, spending almost 40 minutes on the phone with her only to have her enter a porn-site by mistake.

Or when he sat through watching 'The Little Mermaid' with me because I was feeling sappy and nostalgic, and then spent the rest of the night talking like Sebastian. The pizza delivery guy was really confused by his accent.

Or when he arrived at my apartment last week with a fugly-ass potted plant. He informed me that it was called a 'dinosaur plant', because it's basically been around since the time of the dinosaurs, and it can survive without a drop of water for 50 years. Apparently it just dries up into a ball and hibernates, which is really convenient. Talk about not wanting to die. He went on to tell me that he'd considered getting me a more normal and pretty plant, but he'd thought I'd enjoy this one more because '_it's totally badass and much cooler than some sissy orchid or something_'. He was totally right.

So yeah, it's the little things. Big, romantic gestures are all very nice and dandy, but the little things... the little things are what make me think I'm falling in love with Edward Masen.

««◊»»

I've just crawled into bed after an exhausting few hours of pretending to study when my phone lights up with a new text. I grin and get not-butterflies in my stomach when I see that it's from Edward.

**Dude, I think I'm scarred for life. Alice just yelled 'Oh god, Jazz-man'.**

I almost choke on the ungodly giggle-snort I emit when I read his message. _Oh dear god, poor guy_.

**I'm so sorry. That's happened to me too. –B**

**That's really disturbing. I'm glad you don't call me something weird when you come. –E**

**What, like Ed-meister? –B**

**Yeah. Insta-limp-dick right there. –E **

**I'll make sure to remember that. –B**

**While on the subject, anything you don't want me to call you? –E**

**Belly-monster, Swan-face, Isa-balls and Angus. –B**

**Wtf, why would I call you Angus? –E**

**Maybe you'll have a craving for Angus beef. –B**

**While inside you? I don't think so. –E**

**Well, I don't know, do I? Just covering my all my bases. You asked. –B**

**Are you speaking from experience with these names? –E**

**Are you asking me if anyone has called me Belly-monster, Swan-face, Isa-balls or Angus? –B**

**Yes. - E**

**Unfortunately. –E **

**Well, Peter Hudgins once called me Isa-balls. But we were eight, so I don't think it counts. -B**

**You're a very strange woman. –E**

**I know. You still like me though, right? –B**

**Yeah ;) Good night, Bella. –E**

**Night, Edward. See you tomorrow. –B**

I put my phone on my bedside table with a sigh. I can't take this ridiculous grin off my face. I'm feeling way too warm and gooey right now for that.

««◊»»

Edward lazes across my bed as I get ready for work, reading my copy of _Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows_. I'm pulling my hair into a pony tail when he suddenly slams the book shut and drops it on the floor.

He looks upset.

"Edward? What's wrong?"

He looks at me and pouts sadly.

"Dobby's about to die – I can't read that without crying."

My breath catches in my throat and I'm suddenly walking across the room to him, bending down to give him a soft kiss.

"I find the fact that you can admit that unreasonably hot and I wanna do you right this minute. Sadly, I have to get to work, so do something gross so I won't want you so much anymore."

"Uh..." Edward's eyes start flickering around the room, as if he's looking for inspiration for this act of grossness. I straighten up and take a step or two back, just in case.

I deem this a good decision when he belches loudly, looking at me for approval.

"Yeah, that'll do it," I tell him with a nod and go back to fixing my hair.

Still... _warm and gooey_.

««◊»»

"Edward's staring at you again," Alice giggles, sucking on the straw of her drink. She gestures with her chin subtly, as if I'm not already aware that Edward is across the bar by the pool tables, playing a game with Jasper.

I look over my shoulder for like, the tenth time since we came to the bar. Yep, he's staring at me again. I turn back to Alice with a girly grin.

She and I forced the boys to go out on a double-date tonight. They weren't really happy with the prospect, but after a few subtle threats of withholding blowjobs for a week, they quickly caught on and made dinner reservations.

Since they were so nice about it, we agreed to come here after the meal. Alice and I have mostly been drinking and gossiping while Jasper and Edward have been reinforcing their manhood with a few competitive games of pool.

I don't know what's up with Edward tonight, but I've caught him staring at me several times, and whenever I do, he just smiles for a few seconds and then turns his attention back to either his meal, the conversation at hand, or his game of pool.

_Boys are weird_.

Another few minutes pass before Alice's gaze shift to over my shoulder. She suddenly straightens up and widens her eyes meaningfully at me. I have no idea what the _meaning_ actually is, but I'm kinda used to that; it's Alice we're talking about here.

Then I feel a warm hand on my back, just a second or two before my lungs fill with the distinct scent of Edward. I turn my head to the right only to find him stepping up beside me with a gentle smile on his face.

Before I can question what he's doing, he bends down and kisses my temple before his lips move to hover over my ear.

"I just wanted to tell you that you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

His voice is soft, his breath is warm and his words cause my heart to miss a beat in surprise, before compensating with a number of irregular and overzealous thumps.

The air stutters in my throat and I move my head back so I can look at him. My eyes are wide and I feel absolutely awe-struck by his random but oh so lovely gesture. He just smiles like that again, as if I've only caught him staring. He leans in and warms my lips with his own in a gentle kiss, and then he walks back to the pool table without another word.

Alice's mouth is hanging open slightly and I can't get my brain to work.

_Yup. Very warm, gooey and all-a-flutter right now_.

««◊»»

"Bella, I can't find it."

"You're not looking hard enough. It's there, it has to be."

"Well, it's not. I've looked through all the cabinets like a thousand times now and-"

"Edward, no one likes a drama queen."

"Oh, shut up. Listen, it's not here, so can we just use a differ-"

"No, I need that plate. It's not the same if that plate is not used."

There is a moment of intense silence coming through my phone. Edward is probably glaring at my kitchen cabinets. Possibly imagining that his annoying, stubborn girlfriend is standing there too, so he can fake-glare at me for being difficult.

"Bella, it's just m&m's, I'm sure you can manage with a different plate or bowl."

I gasp and come to a stumbling halt in the middle of the store.

"'_Just_ m&m's'? _Just_? Dude, m&m's is like the greatest movie-snack ever. You don't disrespect the m&m's!"

He sighs. I don't think he was completely prepared for the amount of crazy I can bring out when it comes to movie snacks. I almost feel bad for him, because who wants a crazy girlfriend? Especially one who goes crazy over m&m's and her special plate with six little bowls in it that she uses specifically to organise each m&m by colour so that she can eat them in her very specific order.

_Once you introduce him to the cracker-to-dip ratio rules, he might start running for the hills, Swan_.

"_Edward_..." I whine, because that totally works, "I need that plate. Have you really looked everywhere? The dish rack? Above the fridge? The counter tops? My room?"

"Why would it be in your room?"

"Why _wouldn't_ it be in my room? I eat m&m's in there too."

He makes a noise of frustration. "Seriously Bella, I've searched every cabinet and every shelf – I really can't find it. Either you look for it when you get back, or you'll... I don't know, have to organise your m&m's on the table like a normal person."

"I'm a normal person!"

He's quiet for so long my brain automatically adds the sound of crickets.

"You're mean."

"No, I'm just concerned over the mental health of my girlfriend when she actually has a special plate reserved for the sole usage of m&m's. Isn't that kind of plate supposed to be used for like serving different types of jams at rich people's tea parties?"

"Keep this up and you can kiss your peanut butter cups goodbye."

I'm lying, because I want the peanut butter cups almost as much as he does – I say 'almost' because he's just as frantic for them as I am for my m&m's – but I want to hit him where it hurts.

"Dude, that's not fair. You can't take my cups from me."

"Well, stop being mean."

"You know what, this conversation really isn't going anywhere. I promise I'll keep looking for the damn plate, but if I haven't found it by the time you get back, you'll have five minutes to look for it yourself before I start the movie – deal?"

I huff and start walking towards the register. "Fine. But if I do find it within those five minutes, you need to give me time to organise my m&m's before you start the movie."

"Yeah, fine. Just hurry up, okay? I have some really important and specific plans to snuggle with my crazy girlfriend tonight, and I kinda want to get started on that as soon as possible."

His words cause the most ridiculous smile to appear on my face and I hold back a dreamy, girly giggle as I dreamily tilt my head to the side. He's so dreamy.

"I'll try."

"Okay. See you soon."

I can't stop smiling all the way to the register. The pimply faced dude sitting there looks at me weirdly, as if he isn't used to customers actually looking happy as they fork over their hard-earned money to his bony little hands.

His hands are nothing like Edward's. Edward's long, amazingly sexy fingers speak of grace and beauty and hotness. This guys hands are just bony, stubby and weird and speak of very little.

_Why am I being so mean to him? It's not his fault he's no match to the perfection that is Edward... Oh, shut up, Swan. Just give him your damn money and go home to your boyfriend. Who you're possibly falling in love with because he does cute little things like tell you to hurry the hell up while shopping because he has plans to snuggle with you tonight. _

I'm still smiling all the way home.

««◊»»

It takes me 15 seconds to find the plate once I get there. Edward glares at it in a tense silence, as if the plate has truly offended him. He doesn't say a single word as I leave the kitchen and make my way to the couch, plate and bag of heavenly m&m's in hand.

He stomps around in the kitchen while I organise the colours, banging cupboard doors and clinking glasses together a bit too loudly. Apparently he doesn't like being outsmarted by my m&m plate. I'll have to remember that for future reference.

He finally appears with a tray loaded with movie-snacks; there's enough popcorn, chips, candy and sodas to feed a very small army. You know, if the army consisted of like five people or something.

_Yes, because there's such an over-abundance of five-men armies_.

Edward looks grumpy as he plops down next to me, arranging the snacks and drinks in a pleasing manner on the table in front of us. It looks like a gaggle of 15 year old girls dressed in pyjamas are about to invade our living room. I briefly consider getting some booze, just so I'll feel more like the grown-up I pretend to be on a daily basis. Edward's grumpy glare at my m&m plate derails me from this thought though.

"Edward..."

"What?" He's pouting. I can see that he's trying really hard not to, but he kinda sucks at repressing it.

I try not to laugh. Damn, he is so adorable. I scoot closer to him and give him a quick kiss on his stubbly cheek.

"I bought you extra peanut butter cups," I offer him softly, watching as his pout softens for a second or two before reappearing. I give it another go. "You'll have them all to yourself..."

His pout relaxes for another few seconds, and he's trying not to smile now. I lean in and kiss him again, letting my lips experience the joy of his jaw line this time. I feel his cheek twitching and he slouches further down into the couch.

"Thank you for looking for my m&m plate – you're the bestest boyfriend ever."

That earns me the half-crooked grin of his that makes me want to tackle him and remove his undergarments as fast as the laws of physics will allow. He turns his head to me and hesitates shyly before responding.

"Really? Bestest ever?"

Oh my god, the look on his face right now.

I swallow heavily and attempt to reign in the urge to fling myself at him and smooch his cutesy little face. I wonder how he'd react if I actually did that.

"Really," I promise, leaning in and kissing his adorable smile. He kisses me back, a soft press of lips against lips. I taste salt on him, so I know he's snagged a chip before he left the kitchen, the sneaky little bastard. I go back for another taste, because Essence of Edward with chips? Win. And when I kiss him back, he slips me his tongue.

_And..._ queue heavy make-out session that lasts for several minutes.

_There goes that warm and gooey feeling in my heart again_.

It isn't until Edward almost falls off the couch in an attempt to gracefully lay me down on my back that we seem to remember where we are. We're supposed to be watching a movie and eating the snacks I drove to the store specifically to get, not defile another couch with our dry humping antics.

As Edward busies himself with setting up the DVD, I finish sorting my m&m's with my tried and trusted organisation method. I've thoroughly experimented on this, and by going through many, many, many, many bags of m&m's, I have found the most perfect, most finely tuned, most delicious way to eat them. This is why this plate is so important.

The little bowl at the top is number one; all the brown ones go in there. The orange ones go in bowl number two. Bowl number three houses the yellow ones. After that comes green, then blue, and in bowl number six, the one in the middle, the red ones shine as brightly as a stop light.

They just don't taste the same if they are not eaten in that exact order. They simply _must_ be eaten like that. It messes up the whole experience if you eat an m&m out or order. It just won't do.

It's all in the colours. The colours make it tasty.

Okay, not really. I know I'm being slightly insane and anal about it, but I really can't help it. I like organisation. I like colour-coding useless things like m&m's. I like drawing out the experience of eating chocolate as much as possible. Apparently I also love being crazy, but I reconciled with that knowledge a long time ago.

Besides, it's not like it hurts anyone. Yeah, I'm being weird and bizarre, and I don't normally show anyone my insane tendencies, but I-... I mean... it's Edward. I know he won't really care. He'll call me insane and tease me about it, but I just... I don't mind. Not when it's him. I want him to see every side of me, including the crazy one. I think that might have something to do with the warm-and-gooeys and the fact that I think I'm falling in love with him. He makes me feel safe enough to just be me, to just be Crazy Bella.

And to be honest, I've grown quite attached to my m&m sorting. I don't want to have to hide my love for it. Alec never really understood how it made me a little happy to organise and eat them like this, and subsequently, I didn't eat m&m's around him. The man made me eat less m&m's. No wonder it was so easy for me to break up with him.

Now, however, I can eat them any way I like; I can do it around the bestest boyfriend ever, because I think I might be falling in love with him, and I'm not afraid of showing him the sides of me I usually reserve for Alone Time.

However, it seems like Edward is one of those people who has not yet grasped how amazing these things can taste if eaten correctly. About 10 minutes into the movie, he actually tries to eat a red one after a yellow one. I gasp, horrified as he pinches it between his fingers.

"No!"

I slap at his hand, making him drop the red one on the floor. I dive after it before it can roll under the couch, giving it a quick dusting before putting it back in its rightful place.

I feel Edward's bewildered stare on the side of my face and I turn to look at him.

"What the hell?"

His eyes flicker back and forth between me and the plate, looking more confused than I've ever seen him.

"You have to eat them in order," I tell him. I'd think it was fairly obvious, what with all the little bowls and stuff, and clearly my obsession with this plate indicates that I have some rather stringent rules attached to it.

_Might help if you actually explain the rules to him first, Swan, rather than just assume the poor boy can read your mind_.

Oh. Right. Shit, forgot about that.

He's quiet for several seconds as his lips move soundlessly. It's like he can't even conjure up words that will adequately describe how insane he thinks I am.

"Why?"

Well, that's a good a word as any, I suppose.

"Because they taste better if you eat them in order. Plus, it's fun."

"How is that fun? You're making eating m&m's really complicated."

"I'm not. It's easy. And they look much better like this, colour coordinated."

"Yeah, but why can't you just eat them? Why do you have to organise them at all?"

"_Because they taste better_."

"No, they don't! They taste exactly the same. It's not like your tongue can detect colours."

"No, but my brain knows."

"... So?"

"_So_... my brain tells me they taste better if you eat them in this order. Brown, orange, yellow, green, blue, red. Come on, admit it – it makes sense. You eat the ugly colours first."

He's quiet as he studies the plate again. He then looks back at me, and for some reason he suddenly looks all sentimental and emotional.

"I happen to think brown is a very nice colour. Beautiful, even."

I feel my right eyebrow rise in singular confusion. "Huh?"

"Brown – it's a nice colour. Warm and beautiful. Why do you eat it first?"

"Because... it's brown. It's boring." I grab a strand of my hair and wave it around. "See? Boring."

His lips twitch and he reaches up and takes the strand out of my grasp, twisting it around his fingers. "Your hair isn't boring. It's amazing. Like, it isn't just brown, it's-... it has like... other colours in it from that... uh, general... colour... scheme." He blinks a few times, looking a little confused. Wow. My boyfriend's really bad with naming colours. "Plus, it's really soft and shiny. And it smells nice."

"You're a dork."

_An adorable, amazing, cute, hot and sexy dork._

He tugs at my hair a little and frowns playfully. "I resent that comment very much."

"Well, tough shit; you're still a dork."

"And your eyes are definitely not boring," he continues as if I'd never spoken at all.

I can't even remember what I said anymore, because he's suddenly looking directly into my eyes, and he's smiling so softly and he looks so pretty and he just said my eyes weren't boring and it looks like he really meant it and I want to tell him that his eyes aren't boring either, because they aren't. They're beautiful and green, and _beautiful_, especially when he's looking at me like he is right now, and they're so beautiful and _green_ and oh my god.

"I happen to think you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen," he murmurs quietly, leaning in towards me slowly.

I can't breathe.

His lips brush against mine lightly. I usually have to fight really hard to keep my eyes open if I want to look at him while kissing – not that the urge strikes me very often – but now I can't look away, even if I wanted to. He's still studying the colour of my eyes, and I don't think I've ever seen him look so... so...

_God, I don't even know what that _is_. Soft, and pretty, and amazing and warm and girly-part-tingle-and-pitter-patter-heartbeat inducing, and- and just... wow_.

I feel a slow blush rising in my cheeks, as if it's taking my brain a little while to gather its wits after Edward just paid me this huge, lovely compliment and remember that it's supposed to make my cheeks as red as the m&m's in bowl number six when that happens.

I pucker up my lips a little, just enough to give him a gentle kiss back. He moves his head a little up and down, so our noses sort of nuzzle each other. Normally I'd think that sort of thing would be weird, but now I just think it's adorable and appropriate and I don't ever want to stop nuzzling his nose.

I definitely think I'm falling in love with Edward Masen.

"You have pretty eyes too," I suddenly whisper, with no conscious thought to do so at all.

_Dude, control your mouth._

My comment makes him laugh though, and I smile – his laugh is infectious and always makes me feel happy.

He gives me another kiss before pulling back and cuddling me into his side again. We have to rewind the movie a little to catch up on what we missed, but it doesn't take long until we're back to stuffing our faces with snacks.

Then, like half an hour later, Edward suddenly speaks up.

"So, wait a minute... you organise them like that because you think brown is uglier than orange, and orange is uglier than yellow and so on?" He looks down at me and shakes his head slowly. "Shame on you, Bella. You're such a m&m-cist."

"A what now?"

"A m&m-cist."

"And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"A m&m racist."

I glare at him. I am not amused.

Okay, I'm a little amused, but he doesn't need to know that.

"That's not funny."

"No, I agree, it's not – you shouldn't carry so much hate around with you, Bella, especially not against them. They can't control what colour they have on the outside. It's the inside that counts! They're all the same on the _inside_."

I blow a raspberry in his stupid face.

"You should try to be more tolerant of all the different colours, Bella. What have the orange m&m's ever done to you, huh? They don't discriminate you for your general paleness and lack of chocolaty goodness."

"How could a m&m ever discriminate me? They're little chocolate candies, Edward."

"They could refuse to pass through your intestines, staying in your stomach _forever_."

"Please don't talk about my intestines."

"What? It's plausible, and-" he overrides me when I try to tell him that I find his logic very lacking "-besides, didn't you learn a single thing in kindergarten? We're all equal, Bella, and we should all try to get along."

"You know what, I actually think I missed that very important life lesson. My teacher obviously had no idea how to treat m&m's."

"Well, no wonder you behave the way you do. Those things need to be pounded into our tiny, young and impressionable minds at an early age. While they're still like dish towels."

"Sponges."

"What?"

"Our minds are like sponges, not dish towels."

"Oh. Right."

He shrugs and then reaches for my m&m's. He casts an evil grin at me over his shoulder as he lets his fingers hover over the blue ones, even though I _know_ he should be eating a yellow one at this point. His fingers dip lower, and I can't help my reaction as he touches a blue one.

"Stop it!"

I thwack him on the arm, and he laughs at me before grabbing the yellow one – _like he's supposed to_ – and settling back into the couch.

_God, Swan, look at you. You actually freaked out because he touched the wrong m&m. Maybe you should see someone about that. Like someone who can order a brain scan for you._

But he just keep doing it. He intentionally tries to eat them out of order, just to rile me up. A small part of my brain is actually really fascinated by how I get increasingly violent with him as he does this. Like, it escalates from smacks and thwacks to pinches and eventually punches on his arms and thighs**, **and I have no idea _why_. Why am I reacting like this? I don't think I'm genuinely that annoyed with his actions – they're just m&m's after all. Maybe I'm just reacting to his teasing. He is actually being kind of funny, and cute, and he's accepting my crazy tendencies by interacting with my m&m's – _you belong in a looney bin, Swan _ - and I just... no, I have no idea.

I want to think I'm overreacting to his actions because it's making him laugh, and I love to hear him laugh, and that seems like a vaguely sane reason to act like you've lost half your marbles.

Edward is completely oblivious to my inner crazy torment. He just keeps laughing at me every time I protest his teasing. He's apparently having the time of his life.

When he does it for like the gaziljonth time, I just... I just suddenly snap. I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but I all but throw myself at him, growl-shrieking about what a buttface he's being as I tackle him.

He lets out a surprised whoop as I push him down sideways on the couch, and I straddle him as I start tickling, pinching and slapping at every inch of him I can reach.

Edward is really ticklish.

He convulses and laughs with a hysterical and panicky edge to it, trying to avoid my nimble fingers. He tries to plead with me, but I pretend like I can't understand him. It's really not that hard – he's basically talking gibberish anyway.

"Be-... _naaargghh!_ S-s-s-taaaaaaaa! No-n-n-...! Bell-_gaaaahhhjjfffaaa! __St-ooo-pppp-aaarrggh!_"

See? I totally have no idea what he's talking about.

His attempts to tickle me back fail miserably, because he's too scared to leave himself open for an attack and therefore retreats to pure defence with his arms crossed in front of him all the time. I start getting winded as I struggle like this with him and he's all red in the face from lack of air and stuff. He's still so pretty.

It takes me longer than it should to realise that I'm gradually moving away from tickling and instead gliding into shamelessly feeling him up.

_I clearly had ulterior motives with the whole tackle-and-tickle attack. It was just a means to an end. The end being having Edward's solid chest gliding under my eager fingers._

_Ah, maybe you're not as crazy as you seem, Swan. You might actually be kinda smart._

I start panting for a whole other reason as I take in that Edward's managed to wiggle around so that he's lying on his back underneath me now, rather than on his side like before, and I'm basically grinding down on The Hard One.

Or well, he isn't very hard right now, but I think if I just give it a few seconds and a hip-roll or two...

... and there he is.

Edward's eyes snap up to mine and he stops struggling and trying to fight me off as it dawns on him what I'm doing. I can't stop the moan that trembles past my lips, my panting breaths pushing it out for him to hear as I look into his eyes, seeing them cloud over with lust.

_Fuck, he's so hot_.

He grabs my face and pulls me down for some seriously awesome kisses. There's so much, I-... his tongue in my mouth and his soft lips and that little bit of stubble and the way neither one of us can really breathe but we don't fucking _care_ and oh my god, his hands on my back, _scratching_ and oh fuck, oh jesus, oh holy jam crackers, oh shit.

I force a hand in between our now grinding bodies, fighting to pop the button on his jeans. He grunts into my mouth, shifting his hips up towards me and it feels really unbelievably good. God, I want to have sex with him right now.

"Edward," I pant, "oh god..."

He hums in agreement and sucks on my bottom lip and I completely lose my train of thought. Not that it matters much – my thoughts were basically just a continuous ramble of '_Edward, naked, shit, fuck, oh god so good, want him, sex sex sex, The Hard One, oh god_'.

His hands make their way under my shirt and I decide that I need to get myself naked right now. I want to feel his naked chest against my boobs and I'm pretty sure he'd appreciate that too. He does seem to make it a point to compliment them on their softness and general awesomeness every so often, after all. He clearly likes them quite a bit.

I'm already tugging at my shirt before I've even pushed myself into an upright position.

This turns out to be a very bad thing.

Due to my general lack of oxygen while sucking face with Edward, and my brilliant idea of getting naked as fast as possible, which prompted me to sit up _as fast as possible_, and the fact that I'm me, I get a sudden swell of light-headedness just as I've pulled my t-shirt up over my head. The edges of my vision turn black and fuzzy, and I get really, really dizzy.

So, obviously, I fall to the floor. With a girly shriek I twist my body as much as I can and end up on my back with an ungraceful whoosh of air leaving me.

You'd think Edward would immediately scramble to make sure I was all right, scooping me off the floor with concerned questions of '_Oh my god, Bella, are you okay? Did you hit your head? Jesus, are you hurt?'_

Instead, his head appears in my line of vision as he leans over on the couch. He looks down at me, blinks twice and then says,

"Five-second rule?"

I burst out laughing, clutching at my now bare stomach. If he got that from where I think he got it, he really _is_ the bestest boyfriend ever. "Texts From Last Night?" I ask in a broken and giggly voice.

His face breaks out in a grin and he nods. "Yeah."

I laugh even harder and put my hand up for a high-five. When he obliges me, I close my fingers around his hand and pull him down on top of me. His surprised quack turns into a groan of pleasure as he settles between my hips and I wrap my legs around him.

Oh, who am I kidding. I'm not falling in love with Edward Masen.

I've already fallen.

* * *

If you don't get the "Texts From Last Night" reference, you can read the one Bella and Edward are talking about here: www. textsfromlastnight Text-Replies-10189. html It's really funny, so I recommend checking it out.

Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Until next time,

/Vic


	12. The Origin of Edward

**Chapter 12: The origin of Edward **

EPOV

Watching Bella sleep is an interesting experience. Waiting for her to actually fall asleep is not. She moves around a lot before she finds a 'comfy position', and when you're sharing a bed with someone who moves around a lot, the subsequent jiggling gets really annoying, really fast.

I'm thinking of tying her down.

I grit my teeth a little as she flops over to lie on her left side, feeling the mattress shake underneath me. Tying her down is becoming more and more enticing by the minute. Of course, she probably wouldn't fall asleep at all if I tied her down, because she'd be waiting for me to sex her up. I know her well enough by now to be able to say, with 100 per cent certainty, that she wouldn't shut up until I'd paid the admissions fee to Dickneyland and gone on all the rides.

I snicker to myself as I think of the several puns I could make about water-rides.

Bella moves again, grabbing her pillow and accidentally slapping me across the face with it as she rearranges herself. I sigh.

"Are you done soon?" My voice is kind of slurry and gritty because I'm super tired and I'd really love some sleep right about now.

"Hmm?"

"Are you 'comfy' yet? You need to lie still, woman."

"Oh, sorry. Am I bothering you?"

She turns around to face me as she talks, and I give her an annoyed glare.

More like sleepy stare, but the difference is wafer-thin.

"I'm having fantasies about those beds where you can drop a bowling ball on it and the glass doesn't spill. I'm having _passionate_ fantasies about it. Keep this up, and I'll be having wet-dream-esque fantasies about it."

"Am I on the bed?"

"What?"

"In your fantasies. Am I on the bed?"

I was only joking about the fantasies before, but now that she asked my mind fills with a tantalising image of Bella lying completely naked in the middle of one of those beds, with a bowling ball on one side and a glass of wine on the other.

_Wow_.

"Yes."

She grins, entirely too pleased with herself, because she expanded very little effort in placing that image in my head. Although I guess that actually is a reason to be proud.

"Well then, have all the dirty dreams about it that you want. Just as long as it's me you're humping and not the actual bed."

I poke her and she slaps my hand away with a squeal. I love when she does that.

"I would never hump a bed. I'm far too much of a gentleman to do such a thing."

"Oh yeah? Is that why you're scratching your balls at this very moment, Mr. Gentleman?"

I look down, and yup, there's my hand, scratching my balls over my boxers.

_Stupid hand with mind of its own_.

She laughs when I pull my arm away, hiding my overly grabby digits behind my back.

"_Anyway_... no, humping beds is definitely out of the question. Especially if there's a pretty girl lying naked on it – I'd much rather hump her than the mattress."

"Oh, I'm naked in these dreams of yours?"

Is she crazy?

"Uh, yeah." I'd think that was fairly obvious.

She suddenly looks very intrigued.

"Really? Am I always naked in your dreams?"

"The sexy ones, yes. And most of the other ones, too. But that really isn't my fault – you always show up dressed, but you start stripping after like two minutes, even if I tell you to keep your clothes on."

"Are you implying that it's my fault?"

"Well... No, yeah, it's your fault."

"How can it be my fault? It's _your_ unconscious that's undressing me. It's not like I run around in public taking my shirt of all the time."

"After a few drinks you do."

"That was one time. And it's beside the point. And why are we saying that it's my 'fault'? Shouldn't you be happy you're always dreaming about naked chicks?"

"Chick, not chicks. Singular. There are no other naked ladies running around in my brain, except you. And occasionally Scarlett Johansson."

"Aww, really?"

"Yeah. I like it the most when you're both there."

"I'm pretty sure I'd like that, too. She has amazing boobs."

I stare at her.

"You're totally making me hard right now, just so you know."

Her eyes flicker down to my crotch, covered by the bed sheet.

"By talking about Scarlett Johansson's boobs?"

"Yeah. You're making me picture the two of you, naked. Together. _Naked_. You may or may not also be touching her boobs."

I note with a certain sense of fascination that Bella's breathing seems to be picking up.

"Oh, yeah? And where are you in this scenario?"

She wiggles herself a little closer to me, reaching out to trace her finger over my chest. My growing boner gets really excited.

"Standing behind you, ogling your ass."

She whimpers a little. I find this even more fascinating.

"And then what happens?"

"Then I have hot sex with you. Scarlett can watch."

She looks up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, and a shy smile tugs at her lips.

"You wouldn't have her join?"

With a shake of my head, I'm rewarded with the most beautiful smile from her. If it wasn't such a sissy thing to say, I'd admit that it made my heart flutter a little.

"Nope. I don't want anyone but me touching you like that. Not even Scarlett Johansson."

She sighs and scoots closer, grinning like a very pretty fool.

"You're adorable, Edward."

"I think you mean 'handsome, strong, and manly'," I correct her as she wraps her arms around me. I help her out by grabbing her thigh and throwing it over my hip. I am a gentleman, after all.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course. Very _handsome_ and cute, and _strong_ and adorable, and _manly_ and sensitive."

I slap her butt cheek a little, which not only makes my boner fully loaded because it jiggles delightfully under my hand, but also has the added benefit of making her hips thrust closer to me. _Win_.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, I would never do such a thing."

I can see her biting her cheek, trying not to laugh.

"I don't believe you," I murmur as I lean in and place a small kiss on her neck. She swallows compulsively, and the skin moves under my lips.

"You think I'm lying?"

"I definitely think you're lying." She has the sexiest neck ever. God, I love her neck.

"Okay, I was lying. Maybe you should punish me?"

"I did think about tying you down to the bed earlier," I mumble against her.

She's quiet for a few seconds. "Really?"

I was totally right. She finds the idea vastly intriguing. I don't know if I should be worried or thrilled.

"Mostly so you'd stop moving around."

"Oh." Now she sounds disappointed. Her palm slowly slides down my side, warming the skin as she goes. I know what she's doing; you'd think the caress was meant to be affectionate, but she's just doing it so she can get her hand down my boxers. Her fingers slip under the elastic, and she starts tugging on it absentmindedly.

"But maybe that wouldn't be such a good punishment," I continue, moving my head to nibble on her ear. I know she loves it when I do that. "I think you'd like it too much."

"I probably would," she half-moans, arching her neck to give me more room.

"Maybe I should just go and mess around with your m&m's instead. Eat them all out of order."

She gasps indignantly. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Of course I would. I'm a manly, brave, manly man – I'm not afraid of you."

"You say that now, but you just wait until I bring out all my crazy," she says in a warning tone, pulling back to look at me. I love it when she gets all flustered and cute. "You haven't seen half of it yet. Don't touch my m&m's."

"Fine, I won't touch your m&m's. I actually think you bruised me at some point tonight, so I'd rather not."

Her face softens a little and her hand slides dangerously low on my hip. And I say 'dangerously', but mean sexily.

"I'm sorry I hit you. It was just like an automatic reaction. I think I was traumatised as a child. Like my mom dropping a giant bag of m&m's on the floor and then making me sort them all to use in arts and crafts or something."

"Does that sound like something your mom would do?"

"Yeah. She's even more insane than I am."

I'm kind of afraid of her mom now.

"Let's not talk about your parents, okay? Parents and boners don't really mix."

Her fingers clench around my underwear, as if it was suddenly reminded of its mission to find said boner.

"Okay, no more parent-talk. What about this 'tying me down' business, then? I think that could be fun."

"I know you'd think so, which is why I dismissed it as a possible way to get you to stop moving around and fall asleep."

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't work. I'd just bug you until you sexed me up."

_See? I know her so well_.

"Exactly. So that's out. Maybe I should just make you come a few times. Tire you out?"

Her eyes widen in delight.

"Oh, yes, do that!"

She punctuates her excitement by suddenly twisting her hand around and grabbing my dick.

"Jesus fucking christ," I groan in surprise, dropping my face into the curve of her neck. She giggles, which isn't really something I want a girl holding my boner to do. When I tell her that, she only giggles more.

"I th-though I was the one who... oh, _god_... was supposed to give you orgasms, not the other way a-... _ah, fuck_... around," I observe as she begins moving her hand in ways that make me very, _very_ happy.

"Well, those countless orgasms you're going to give me might take a while, so I thought I'd help you out a little first."

I really can't debate that kind of logic.

"Okay then. Have at it."

And at it she goes. I reach up to kiss her and I soon find that I can't seem to stop. God, I love her lips; they're soft and taste like her, and so warm and it just feels so nice to kiss her and have her that close. Also, she likes doing these little breathy half-moany things that I fucking live for when I suck on her bottom lip.

I emit a somewhat embarrassing noise as her ministrations down below become more ardent, because whatever the hell she's doing with her pinkie finger right now should be awarded a medal.

I think my dick is a little stupid. Maybe he suffers from amnesia, or at the very least has some short-term memory issues, because he can't seem to remember that we had sex with Bella not two hours ago on her livingroom floor. He's acting as if he hasn't felt another human touch for months. I thrust into her hand and grab her boob, because I really love her boobs.

_So pretty..._

But then she stops. Her hand leaves my dick, and it instantly feels cold, deprived and lonely. I make a distressed noise against her mouth, and she giggles again.

I really need to try to break her out of the habit of giggling when my boner is involved.

She sits up in the bed, bouncing a little. I must admit, her enthusiasm for sex is seriously hot.

"Underwear off, please!"

She peels off her top while I demolish the presence of my boxers._  
_

I reach out to touch her chest, but she moves out of the way with a devilish smirk.

"You can play with them later," she tells me as she straddles my legs. I really like the direction of where this is going.

Then she doesn't speak anymore, because her mouth is otherwise occupied.

"_Holy mother_ of James Bond!"

_What?_

I have no idea.

She makes a weird choking sound as she starts laughing and she straightens up again. Her hand is still around my dick though, so I'm finding it rather difficult to concentrate.

"Why are you thinking about James Bond's mother while I'm sucking on your woody?"

"Do you really expect me to have an answer to that? You're touching my dick."

She looks down at it in contemplation.

"Well, that's true. Should I continue?"

"Whatever you want, Bella."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

And oh god, she feels so good. Her mouth is so warm, and the feel of her tongue as she moves it, and _oh Jesus_...

My balls get some special attention too and I almost rip a hole through the sheet beneath me as I grunt and growl and otherwise allow my inner caveman to take over completely. He helpfully puts Bella's Greatest Hits on in the background of my mind and dims the lights.

_Cosy_.

I force myself to stop her after a while. I don't want it to be over too quickly.

With a bit of pulling, tugging and persuasive words, I manage to get Bella to trade places with me.

Her first orgasm makes her rip a few hairs from my scalp.

Her second leaves her incoherently mumbling random vowel sounds for about a minute.

Her third one has her arching off the bed with a mouth open in a silent scream.

Her fourth one almost makes her cry. Happy tears, of course.

I have no idea how long it's all taken, but my neck feels just about as painfully stiff as my dick, and my fingers are cramping, so I don't resist her when she pulls at me.

Bella's hands are desperate as they tug on me, pulling me over her and then down so she can kiss me. There's nothing soft and gentle about it at all; it's sloppy and hungry and teeth banging together and biting into lips hard enough to almost draw blood. It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt.

"You need to get in me now, Edward, I'm not even kidding," she all but growls at me in between heavy pants. Her hands slip down my back and I yelp a little as she grabs a healthy handful of my ass cheeks, squeezing hard.

"Okay," I say stupidly. I probably wouldn't refuse her right now even if she asked me to put on a tutu and sing a Katy Perry song while we had sex.

And then all I can feel is wet and warm and soft and it's just so damn _good_ and I groan helplessly as I sink into her, inch by amazing inch. Bella holds her breath beneath me, watching me with wide eyes and parted lips and damn, has she always been this beautiful? This perfect? She has the most flawless milky white skin, and those brown eyes of hers will be the death of me, I fucking know it. And just look at those lips, and how pink her cheeks are right now, and the hint of blue veins under her skin, parting like vines across her chest.

_Look at her boobs_.

God, I love her boobs.

A sudden need to just feel as much of her as possible against me bubbles through my chest. I lower myself down on her, sliding my arms under her shoulders. She sighs softly and then I feel her hands, warm and soft over my skin, gliding up my back. Our lips meld fiercely to each other as I bend down to kiss her and I begin to move.

The only actual word she utters from that point on is my name, carried on a breathless moan. God, I love it when she moans my name like that.

It doesn't take long at all until I'm getting close, and I abandon her neck that I have been kissing.

I desperately try to work out various math problems in my head as I rise up and put my weight on my left elbow. Bella convulses when my free hand then makes contact between us, and as I start to circle it my thrusts take on a hint of desperation. Math problems really aren't working in holding off this attack; I can barely remember what two plus four is.

"Bella... _fuck_...!" The words barely make it through the barrier of my teeth that are clenched so hard you could probably shove some coal up there and I'd spit out a diamond.

I hiss in pain as Bella's nails sink into my back, small pinching spots of agony, but then I groan like an animal, because pain is apparently something I kind of like.

A warbled cry leaves her and I watch with wide-open eyes as her body seizes up and arches off the bed. I give up on the elementary-level maths problems I was struggling with. As Bella starts convulsing and trembling beneath me, a tingling in my groin lets me know that the end is near.

I place my right hand back at Bella's side and rear up on my arms with a rough grunt. My jaw drops open without my consent as the tingling grows into a raging inferno of awesomeness. My eyes snap open when Bella moans, and as my hips slap against hers harder and harder, I look down at her.

It's fucking corny to say so, but her gaze seems smouldering and hungry. She drags her teeth over her lip and then whispers my complete undoing.

"I love watching you come, Edward."

_Oh holy shit_.

My reaction is instant. I feel it from my toes to the top of my head, surging through my body and exploding in my groin. A series of whimpering groans tremble out of my throat as everything turns black and the only thing I can hear is the pulse in my ears.

When it's over, I slowly lower myself down on her, gasping for air. A slow groany-sigh leaves me as I nuzzle my face into her neck.

God, I really love nuzzling my face into her neck.

We lie there and snuggle for a while, trying to get our breath back. Eventually Bella emits a pleasurable groan and lazily starts drawing circles on my back.

"I don't think I can move anymore."

I chuckle in relief. "Ah, mission accomplished."

"Immobilisation has never felt this good."

"Glad to be of service, ma'am."

I slowly roll off her, draping my arm across her stomach. She smiles at me, a big toothy grin. She looks absolutely exquisite, with her flushed face and tangled hair and bright, shining eyes. Jesus christ, I'm one hell of a lucky guy.

My inner caveman grunts in agreement. He's clearly very impressed that I've managed to trick someone as amazing as her into being my girlfriend. I don't think he's had very high expectations of me.

"I think that worked better than tying me up."

"I'd have to agree, although I do think my neck will be very sore tomorrow."

"Well, so will my vag. You'll just have to deal with it."

Before I can respond in a way other than just staring at her, she kisses me quickly and then slides out of bed. Her legs are slightly wobbly as she stumbles away to the bathroom.

_Success_.

Sometime later, Bella has fallen asleep with me curled around her. I think all those orgasms really did the trick, because she hasn't moved since she lay down. But I still find myself awake, unable to completely shut off my brain for the night.

She's so warm against me. So soft. And she smells so nice, especially right here on her neck, the precise spot where my nose is resting. I inhale slowly, wanting to savour it and try to pinpoint all the different notes that make up her scent.

I can't see much in the darkness of my room, but I can just make out the perfect shell of her ear, and the gentle curve of her jaw. I feel her chest expanding and contracting under my arm from her sleep-slow breaths and I nestle even closer to her. She's become so precious to me. I love being with her, seeing her almost every day, kissing her, talking to her, laughing with her, sleeping with her... both the fun way and the PG-rated way.

I love all her smiles, and how a few seem to be extra wide, only for me. I love her crazy m&m-sorting behaviour, and the fact that she makes origami cranes when she's bored. I adore watching her read a book, because she gets so immersed in the words that she completely forgets to control her facial expressions. Everything she's feeling comes out in the twitch of an eyebrow, or the dropping of her jaw, or the pursing of her lips.

I close my eyes and breathe her in, feeling something spreading through my heart; something sweet, thick and smooth, like warm honey. I realise, quite suddenly but with not an ounce of surprise, that I just... I just love her. Simple as that.

_God, I love her_.

**««◊»»**

When I come home the next morning, it's to a battle to the death. There's shouting, cusses and insults flying through the air and I walk towards the living room curiously.

I find Cullen and Jasper violently involved in a video game, too busy killing aliens to notice my appearance. I go grab a box of cereal and a carton of juice before joining them in front of the TV.

Cereal and OJ – breakfast of champions.

It's technically my second breakfast, since Bella shoved some food down my throat this morning before much more briskly shoving me out the door so she could leave for work. But I'm a growing boy – I need more in my belly than two bagels, two eggs, bacon, a banana, three cookies, a cup of coffee, a muffin and a Snickers bar to start off my day.

Oh, and the bowl of chips left over from the movie last night. Plus two peanut butter cups, and a handful of popcorn. And a glass of Coke to wash it all down, of course.

"Motherfucker..." Cullen hisses, intently glaring at the ugly ass alien on the screen. He attempts to kill it, but fails miserably.

He's always sucked at this game. I don't know why he just doesn't give up. When I tell him this, he flings a beer cap lying on the table at me.

My advanced ninja skills allow me to deflect his attack, and the weapon bounces uselessly to the floor.

"How's your lady friend?" Cullen glances at me and then smirks, shaking his head slowly. "Man, I can't believe you managed to trick her into being your girlfriend. She's kinda out of your league, you know?"

What the hell, has he been talking to my inner caveman or something?

"What did you do, tell her about your parents? Make her think you're a slightly less gay version of Richie Rich?"

Now I wish I'd caught the beer cap in my hand so I could fling it back at him. I'd aim for his eye.

"No, I dazzled her with my personality and wit." I pause and nonchalantly scratch at my jaw. "My humongous cock helped too."

Jasper snorts. He's enough of a buddy to make it a snort of amusement, not one of disbelief. Thankfully, he doesn't know a damn thing about my size. For all he knows, I could be hiding a weapon of mass cumsplosion in my pants. The fact that I am is beside the point.

Cullen grumbles and returns his attention to the game. Unfortunately for him, his guy is facing a wall and trying to shoot an air duct, giving the alien ample time to slaughter him.

He stares at the screen is disbelief for a few seconds before throwing the controller onto the table. He curses and then snatches my box of cereal, ignoring me when I protest his thieving ways.

"So, Bella... you seriously snared her by just being... you?"

Cullen points at me, a sceptical look on his face.

_Fucking douche_.

"I didn't 'snare her', asshole."

"So you _did_ tell her about your parents?"

"Dude, they're not _that_ rich. You seriously need to get that through that thick skull of yours."

"They live in a mansion. Mansion kinda equals rich."

"No, it doesn't. Their mansions equals my mother wanting a stupid mansion and my father being lame enough to buy it for her, just so they can pretend to be better off than they actually are."

"Whatever man, I still say your dad has an underground pool full off money, Scrooge McDuck-style."

"A pool full of money? That he dives into every morning?"

"And twice on Sundays."

"You're an idiot."

"That may be so, but I've still gotten laid more times than you."

"How is that even remotely relevant?"

"It's always relevant."

"Oh yeah? Did you tell Mr. Platt the number of times you've gotten laid when he asked you which church you go to? Clearly, it would have been relevant then."

"Actually, no, I didn't. I should have though, I'm sure he would have been impressed."

"Yes, very. Have you told Esme? Maybe you were out for dinner, and she was talking about her pet cat named Snuggles that she had when she was eight, and then you just slipped in how many other chicks you've banged."

"Odin."

"... What?"

"Her cat. It's named Odin. She didn't have one when she was eight, but she has Odin now."

I stare at him.

"It's totally badass," he continues. "She saved him from one of those shelter-things. He's missing an eye, too, so it's a very appropriate name."

"She named her cat after a god from Norse mythology?"

"Yes."

"A one-eyed, rescue-shelter cat?"

"Yes."

"That is kinda badass," Jasper inserts, skilfully blowing up a gaggle of aliens.

Cullen nods and smirks at me, as if to say 'told you so'. God, he really is an idiot sometimes.

"It is, yes, but that has nothing to do with how many times you've been laid or Bella, so it's a moot point."

"I thought it added a nice flair of sophistication to the conversation."

"Sophistication?"

"Yeah, you know... ancient religions and whatnot."

I rise from my chair and snatch my box of cereal back from him. "You are incapable of participating in any sort of sophisticated conversation. You'd just start trying to impress people with your story about the time you took an S-shaped dump."

Cullen snickers with a self-satisfied grin.

_Jesus christ_.

I shove a handful of cereal into my mouth as he day-dreams about the shape of his epic turd, but evidently the conversation has not lead him off track too much. He soon returns his attention to trying to figure out why Bella would want to be with someone like me.

Luckily I'm saved from having to answer questions about the thought-process of the girl I'm in love with by my phone ringing.

I curse when I glance at the screen and answer with a restrained groan. Maybe I'm not not so lucky after all.

"Hi, Mom."

Jasper and Cullen pull sympathetic faces, recoiling slightly. It's the same reaction guys have to watching someone being kicked in the balls, which is strangely similar to what a conversation with my mother feels like.

"_Hi, sweetie! How's my favourite little boy doing?_"

You'd say it's unfair to my brother, Emmett, that mom openly refers to me as her favourite, but then you've clearly never met the woman. It's more unfair to _me_ to be her favourite. Emmett gets off easy.

"I'm fine."

I rise from my chair and start dragging my feet towards my room; Jasper mouths 'Good luck!' at me as I leave. The sad thing is that he isn't being sarcastic.

I then spend ten minutes humming at random intervals as my mother babbles on and on about her plans for 'Mom and Eddie's Special Day' that she and I are apparently going to have when I come home to visit during the summer. I'd rather get my eyeballs drenched in chilli-extract, but if I tell my mother that, she'll cry and complain and be terribly annoying, and then Dad will call to yell at me for making his life miserable and it'll just be this whole big thing.

"_... and then I thought we could round the whole day up with some movies! Doesn't that sound fun_?" My mother's voice is chirpy. High, chirpy and way too excited about the smallest things. It's exhausting to listen to.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"_Oh, it's going to be so much fun, honey! Just you and me, 'hanging out' like we used to._"

Someone, kill me now.

"Sure, Mom."

"_So when do you think you'll be visiting? How long can you stay? You only came home for a few days over Christmas, sweetie; we miss you around here. You have to stay longer_."

"Mom, I have a job, I can't-"

"_Oh, job-schmob! I'm sure your boss can understand needing to visit your mommy_."

Seriously, someone – please kill me.

"_So when do you think you can come? Emmett's going to visit over fourth of July – he's bringing Rosalie_."

The barest hint of a pause before my mother utters Rose's name shows exactly how much she doesn't like her. I don't get it, really. Rose is fucking awesome, but Mom just decided that she's not good enough to date a Masen or some bullshit. Emmett thinks it's hilarious.

"Yeah, fourth of July sounds like a good weekend to come." Especially since Emmett and Rose will be there to buffer me against Mom.

Then I have the most brilliant idea ever.

"Oh, Mom? Could I-... I mean, I'd... uhm..."

"_What is it, sweetie?_"

"Uhm... would it be okay if I bring Bella? I'd really like for you guys to meet her."

The silence that comes over the phone makes me feel suddenly nervous. Why isn't she saying anything?

"_Bella? Oh... well, uh... won't she be going home to her own parents over the weekend?_"

The note of hope in my mother's voice annoys me.

"I haven't asked her yet, but if she's not going home, I'd really love it if you guys could meet her. She's important to me."

My mother is silent again. I clench my fists. This is not going how I envisioned it.

"_Well... I-... why don't you ask her first, sweetie, and then we'll see, okay_?"

I take a deep breath and try to work through my irritation.

"I don't want to invite her without knowing for sure that it's okay if she comes with me." I pause and wait for my mother to say something. When she doesn't, I groan a little. "Mom, please. Just give me a definite answer here. Yes or no, that's all I'm asking for."

"_I don't know, sweetie... don't you think the barbecue and everything will be a bit too... much... for her?_"

What my mother is trying to say is, won't Bella stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the upper-class 'friends' she invites every year for her fourth of July barbecue. She is really starting to piss me off.

"Mom. I want to take my girlfriend home to meet my family – ideally, you'd have no problems agreeing to that."

"_Oh, don't be upset, honey, you know I can't stand it when you're upset with me_," Mom whimpers and I almost bash my head through the wall.

"Mom... yes or no?"

"_Well... I suppose it-... I mean, there's room for her to stay, I guess..._"

"We're 24 years old, mother. We're staying in the same room."

She huffs a little and I can hear her rustling some papers on her end of the line.

"_Fine. Bring her. It'll be... fun_."

I grit my teeth and press out a "Thank you,". I tell her I'll call later in the week about when we might be arriving and then hang up as soon as I can.

I drop face-down onto my bed and groan. I really do hate being her favourite son.

I hope Bella doesn't have plans to go home to her parents over the fourth of July; the weekend will be completely unbearable without her. At least she and I can amuse ourselves by making fun of Mom's friends at the barbecue, and I won't have to go five days without sex.

Plus, I love her. Of course I want her with me.

I roll over and reach for my phone again, shooting off a text for her to call me when she has time. I then return to the living room before Cullen can start asking me if I've been gone so long because I'm jerking off.

Two hours later, the woman I love calls me back.

"Hey, I got your text. What's up?"

I mute the TV and lean back on the couch. Luckily, both Jasper and Cullen have left by now so I don't have to worry about them acting like asses by fake-moaning in the background or something else equally unpleasant.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you... what are you doing for the fourth of July weekend?"

"Oh, uh... I don't have any plans right now. I'm not sure if I'm going home, but I don't think so. Why?"

I fist-pump joyfully – I actually have a shot at getting her to come with me.

"I talked to my mom today; she wants me to come home for that weekend. My brother and his girlfriend will be there too, and I... well, I really want you to come with me."

Bella is silent for a few seconds, but when she speaks, I can hear a huge smile in her voice. "Really? You want me to meet your family?"

"Yeah," I assure her, grinning like a moron. "I'd really love it if you came with me, Bella."

"Uh, okay, yeah." She laughs. "Sure, that'd be... that'd be great. I'd love to."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely. I've wanted to thank your mother personally for having sex with your dad on the day that you were conceived anyway, so that'll be a great opportunity to do so."

"Please don't do that."

"Watch me."

I decide to ignore her.

"You want to come over later? We can order pizza and discuss the trip."

"Sounds good," she says, clearly smiling. "I'll swing by the store and pick up a movie."

"Nothing girly."

"Shut up," she laughs, and I grin. "I'm going to pick something stupid now, just because you said that."

"I'm not surprised. Try to get something with a sex-scene, at least."

"No. I'm going to rent _My Little Pony_. Or _Care Bears_."

"You wouldn't."

She just laughs and hangs up without saying anything.

Just before six, she knocks at the door. She leans against the doorway, wordlessly holding up _The Care Bears Movie._

I gape at her.

"How did you even find that? It's like 25 years old."

She laughs and pushes away from the door. "This is actually from my private collection."

I take it from her hands, turning it over. "This is a VHS."

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't have a VHS player."

She grins and holds up her overnight-bag. I see a wire poking out through the top.

"No way."

"Yes way," she says. She walks over and pulls me down so she can kiss me. "This is happening."

She leaves me standing in the hallway as she walks into my room. Immediately I can hear her messing around with my TV.

No one could ever wonder why I love this woman.

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys. You are all so incredibly awesome. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Much love,

/Vic


	13. The First Impression of Esme

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! **

Here's the chapter – go read.

Sorry for the long wait.

**Bouncy 72** and **IcelandGirl812** – I flove you guys so hard, you have no idea. Thank you for your pre-reading fantabulousness.

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight; what's left is mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 13: The First Impression of Esme**

BPOV

"Hey, Bella? Can I defrost chicken in the microwave?"

I sigh and throw a quick glare in the direction of the kitchen. "Yes, Alice. The microwave's magical ability to defrost poultry hasn't changed since the last time you asked me this question."

A whiny noise, sort of like a wounded puppy, emanates from the freezer door, which Alice is hiding behind. "Don't be mean to me, Bella."

"Well, stop being stupid then."

"You better watch it, or I'll throw this bag of frozen sweet corn at you." Her head pokes around the frame, and her eyes are indignant and scarily threatening. "Just because you know what to do with food, doesn't make you better than me."

"Really? I was under the impression that it did."

"_Bella_!"

"I know, I know – the truth is hard to handle sometimes Alice, but it will be better now that you've accepted it, I promise."

"You're a douche."

I laugh and return my attention to TV.

"But it's seriously okay? With the chicken, I mean. I don't want to give Jasper food poisoning..." She trails off with a contemplative expression on her face.

"Alice, I mean this in the most loving way possible – you should order in."

Her nostrils flare and with a crackling rustle, the bag of sweet corn is in her tiny hand and aimed at my head.

"I swear to god, Bella."

She shakes the bag at me, glaring harder.

"What are you going to do, give me a bump on the head and an ice pack all at once? I'll give you points for efficiency, that's for sure."

I'm pretty sure she growls a little.

"Fine, sorry. Yes, you can defrost chicken in the microwave."

Her face goes from raving-lunatic-murderer to beaming angel faster than the laws of physics should allow. "Thank you!"

I wave her off, sipping my drink as I try to glean what Alice's interruption caused me to miss in the incredibly complicated plot of the 'Family Guy' episode I'm watching.

I am not surprised when I realise I missed very little.

I turn the volume up when the banging from the kitchen rises to annoyingly high levels, but then everything suddenly stops in there. I don't know if I should be worried or not.

"Bella...?"

I press mute and drop my head back against the couch. We should repaint our ceiling.

"Yes?"

"... How does the microwave work?"

Huh. There's a little crack right above my head. Why haven't I noticed that before? We should make a complaint or something.

"Well, you stick your head in there and turn the dial up to eight minutes. Then you press the start-button and you'll go five hundred years into the future."

"_Bella..._!"

For some reason I imitate Mr. Scrooge and emit a "Bah humbug!" as I clamber off the couch and stomp into the kitchen.

Alice stands with a distressed look in her puppy dog eyes, clutching the bag of chicken desperately.

"Help me!"

I snatch the thing from her dainty little grasp and do all the hard work of pressing 'defrost' and turning the dial on the microwave for her. She watches in fascination as the bag turns in slow circles inside the contraption.

"I'm not cooking your dinner for you."

Alice always needs ground-rules. I feel it's best to warn her immediately that roping me into her plan is not allowed.

She turns to me with a slightly hurt look on her face, as if I have wounded her by implying that she would attempt such trickery.

"I wasn't asking you to."

Alice should go into acting and become a movie star; she's _that_ good.

"Uh-huh. When the chicken's no longer frozen solid, what are you planning on doing with it?"

Her mouth moves, but as expected, no sounds actually leave her.

"Thought so. Tell you what – I'll supervise and make sure you don't try another flavour combination like the epic disaster of 'pork with salt and ketchup', but I will _not_ help you cook. That means no chopping, dicing, mincing, peeling, measuring, seasoning, searing, boiling, turning, stirring or draining of any kind. You promised Jasper you'd cook for him, so you will. Now get to it, woman."

She actually does surprisingly well on her own, and except for having to tell her that I will kill her if she uses a metal utensil on my fancy non-stick pans, she manages to not do too much damage.

She's clumsily chopping an onion when she asks without turning to face me, "So what are you and Edward doing tonight?"

I smile at myself as my heart does a ridiculous impersonation of a squeeze bottle; this happens whenever someone casually drops Edward's name into a conversation and takes me by surprise.

"Don't know; I think he's taking me out to dinner or something."

I amuse myself with poking at the ice cubes in my glass of coke, wishing I could have one of those drinks like they do in the movies, where the ice doesn't float to the top. Stupid Hollywood and their stupid cheaters who ignore the laws of chemistry.

_Or is it physics? Eh, who cares_.

"Okay. Well, go over to their place after, alright? I've been so horny this week, so I plan on having Jazz's huge, hard d-"

I immediately abandon my ice-poking.

"_Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!_ La-la-la, I'm not listening!" I shout, clapping my hands over my ears. "I desperately need you not to finish that sentence. Please, for the sake of my sanity. And economy, because I can't afford brain bleach right now."

She turns to face me with an innocent look on her face. "What, you mean you don't want to hear about how Jasper is going to fuck my brains out with his _throbbing erec_-"

"Alice, I swear to god – finish that sentence and I'll pour salmonella into your food."

We stare at each other for a few seconds.

"Do you make it a practice to carry salmonella around with you?"

"Yes, in a small glass vial, just in case my supposed best friend tries to put inerasable images in my head."

She blinks.

"I'll try to remember that."

"You better."

We stare at each other for a few more anxiety-filled seconds before she slowly turns back to her onions. I warily watch her for a bit longer before starting to poke my ice again.

"So what are you wearing tonight?"

I roll my eyes and lean forward to sip from my drink. "I don't know, Alice – clothes?"

I close my lips around my straw and suck the delicious liquid into my mouth. I thrill at the sweet burst of bubbles that cascades down my tongue, the taste of coke exploding on my tastebuds and making me-

"THROBBING ERECTION!"

Alice flings herself around, violently pointing her knife at me while screaming at the top of her lungs. I jump half-way off my seat and promptly proceed to fail at swallowing.

_Oh god, oh god! Coke in my lungs! There's soda in my lungs! I can't breathe! I'm _dying!

I choke and splutter in the wake of Alice's Tourette-like outburst, desperately trying to make sure the coke isn't mistaken for oxygen by my body and therefore transported through my bloodstream.

Alice cackles gleefully, bouncing on her feet in joyous celebration as I choke my way to an early grave.

"Aha! Gotcha!"

I attempt to tell her to fuck off and fall down some stairs, but all that comes out is a series of wheezing, wailing coughs. I shake my fist at her in a poor substitute.

She's still laughing as I grab my drink and stomp angrily from the kitchen, leaving her to cook for her own devices.

««◊»»

"So where are we going again?"

I link my arm with Edward's as we wander slowly down the street towards our destination, which is unknown to me. By the fortune of fate, or my own sex-addicted mind, my hand magically wraps around his bicep.

"This little place I like to go to sometimes," he says mysteriously, smiling down at me.

I frown a little. Keeping secrets, is he?

"Tell me?"

"No, it's more fun this way."

"More fun for _you_."

"Yeah, of course. Who cares if you're having fun?"

I give no other response than attempting to push him into oncoming traffic. He laughs as I bump him off the sidewalk, grabbing a hold of my waist.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I care if you're having fun, I promise. I'll make sure you have the most fun ever."

I can't resist that grin of his. He looks down at me imploringly, because even though I'm on the sidewalk, and he's on the road, he's still taller than me. I find it unreasonably sexy.

"More fun than Disney Land?"

A strange look comes over his face and he's quiet for several seconds before a strangled laugh slips from his mouth. I stare at him. His voice shakes slightly as he answers me, as if he's trying to hold back giggles.

"I don't know if I can beat _Disney_ Land, Bella. That's a pretty awesome place."

And then he presses his lips into a thin line and tightens his hands around my waist.

"What's so funny about Disney Land?"

"No-nothing," he says, his voice shaking like a bowl full of jelly.

And now all I can think about his Santa Claus and his round little belly.

"It's not nothing – you don't get the giggles over nothing. What's so funny about Disney Land?"

And then he can't hold it in anymore – a huge guffaw explodes out of him, and he stands there and laughs until he's red in the face and people are staring and I wish he'd stop.

But at the same time I want him to continue, because just the sight of him laughing like this fills me with so much joy I could power the Vegas strip, or something equally energy consuming. You know, if the Vegas strip was powered by happiness, which I'm pretty sure it's not.

"Edward!" I whine, punching his shoulder lightly. He just breathlessly shakes his head, wiping a tear from his eye. And then he looks at me and bursts out laughing all over again.

_What the..._

"If you don't stop laughing right now, I'm going to start calling you Suzy again!"

This just sends him further into the realm of hysterics, and he leans his forehead on my shoulder, gasping for air in between his nonsense.

"I'm serious. 'Edward' won't pass over my lips one single time tonight. All you'll hear is '_Suzy_, what are you having for dinner?', 'Hey _Suzy_, what's your opinion on bubble wrap?', 'Oh, _Suzy_, you feel so good'."

I think I shocked him with that last one. His head snaps up and he stares at me for a few seconds in silence before crumbling quite gracefully onto the sidewalk next to me. His ass lands with a muted thump, and then he's rocking back and forth like a crazy person.

He's laughing so hard now he's not even making any sounds. It's the highest level of hilarity. It's Level Ten laughter. This is serious business.

I look up and down the street, smiling awkwardly at the people who question Edward's sanity with their eyes. I squeak ungracefully when he suddenly grabs onto my legs for support, almost making me topple over him.

"Oh my god, Edward! Seriously, get a grip."

"I- I- I... I ha- have… have- www-… wwwwooo-… one!" he splutters in between his hysterics, squeezing my legs tightly to prove his point.

I find his point very lacking in actual logic.

"Not the kind of grip I'm talking about, stupid."

It takes forever before he calms down, at which point I am thoroughly not amused anymore. He's breathing heavily when he _finally_ stops laughing, an intermittent and unmanly giggle leaving him every now and then.

"I'm sorry," he pants, grinning goofily.

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

"Hey, Suzy?"

He hums in acknowledgement before he fully realises what I called him, which is actually a little worrying. It's like he's completely used to being called a girl's name. When it dawns on him what he just did, he frowns up at me and pinches my thigh.

"Don't call me Suzy, Bella. Seriously – traumatic childhood memories just waiting to resurface."

"What kind of traumatic memories?"

I suppose it might be unwise to ask someone what their traumatic memories are, since it's quite clear to see that talking about those memories will be... well, traumatic. But he's got me curious now, and I simply must know.

He sighs and pats the sidewalk beside him. I blink.

"I'm not sitting there," I inform him. "It's dirty."

"So is your mouth when we have sex. Just sit down."

I flick his ear for that unsavoury comment – truthful, but unsavoury – and then take a few seconds to make sure the area my ass is sure to rest on isn't covered in suspicious stains or gum or something equally gross.

When I've determined that the coast is clear, I daintily lower myself next to him. I say daintily, and mean that once my knees can't bend anymore, I fall back on my ass with a huff.

I wrap my arms around my bent knees and turn my head to look at him. I studiously ignore all the people walking behind us – it's not that weird to sit on the sidewalk. At least not if there's two of you. It would be worse if you were alone, just sitting there like some weirdo, all lonely and looking lost like some kind of loser, and people will wonder why you have no friends and why you have nothing better to do with your life besides sitting on the sidewalk staring into traffic. It's the same kind of thing like when you fall down in public – at least if you're with a friend you can laugh it off, but if you're alone, then everyone will laugh _at_ you, even if they only do it on the inside, and it will be the most embarrassing moment of your life-

_Okay, serious tangent there, Swan. Shut up and focus, woman._

Edward sighs again. "My brother used to call me Suzy when I was a girl. It kind of stuck with me and shit."

I wait for him to realise what he just said, but as the seconds pass it seems like he really won't. This is starting to get more than a little worrying.

"Uh, Edward? You do realise you just said 'my brother used to call me Suzy _when I was a girl_', right?"

His face falls and he looks at me with wide, horrified eyes.

"No, I didn't."

"Sorry to disappoint and-or scar you for life, but yes, yes you did."

He shakes his head vehemently.

"No."

"Yes."

"Well, I... obviously I didn't mean it like that! It was... you know, slip of the tongue or... or something..."

I pat his hand in a soothing manner, trying to ease the broken expression off his face.

"I know, baby, I know."

He pouts sadly and accepts my cuddling. A tiny groan leaves him suddenly.

"See, this is what I mean by traumatic. When I was five years old, Emmett had me convinced I was born a girl, but I was so ugly my parents forced the doctors to make me a boy."

I press my lips together and pray I won't laugh. His sideways glance at me tells me my expression is very revealing of how hilarious I'm suddenly finding this situation. He rolls his eyes but continues sadly.

"And after that he took up calling me Suzy, for fun. All his friends started doing it too, and then it just spread all over. People didn't stop calling me Suzy until I was in junior high."

Praying was never my strong suit; I fail at my self-appointed task and laugh in sympathy. I lean my head on his very manly shoulder, which I've dubbed one of the best places in the world.

"Poor baby."

"Well, yeah. It's been haunting me my entire life."

"Does Emmett still call you Suzy?"

"Occasionally. He will most likely be doing it to the point of obnoxiousness when we go to my parents for Fourth of July."

A slow grin spreads on my face. I still can't really believe he invited me to go with him. To meet his family. To introduce me to them. That seems so... huge, somehow.

"Why? Because you have a girlfriend now?"

He chuckles softly and shifts his arm. I close my eyes in contentment when he wraps it around my shoulders and squeezes me into his side.

"Yeah, and a really hot one, too."

I feel his lips against my hair, and I shuffle my ass closer to him. My inner self also does a victory dance because he called me hot – honestly, who doesn't love to hear that? Especially if it comes from the lips of the guy you're in love with.

"What's your family like?" I ask curiously. He's never really talked about them that much.

My question causes him to heave a huge sigh, and I can tell this is going to be good. Or bad, depending on how you look at it.

"Well, Emmett's not too bad. I think you two will get along really well. He might make fun of me a lot, or, you know... punch me, but deep, deep... _deep_ down, he's a really good guy."

I laugh. "Oh, I can't wait to meet him."

"I know," he sighs sadly and I poke his leg. "Ow, stop it."

"What about your parents?"

"Oh god, where do I begin?"

I laugh louder, because now I _know_ it's going to be good.

"My dad... my dad is one of those guys who's never really sure what's going on in his own home. I mean, he loves us all and stuff, but he's always a little lost on the details. Like he'd never know when Emmett or I had a game coming up when we were kids, or what our teacher's name was, or what was wrong with us if we were sick."

I frown. That doesn't sound good at all.

"I know that sounds bad, but I guess it's just hard to explain. I mean, once my mom told him what was going on, he'd be more involved. He just didn't really find stuff out for himself. He was a good dad, when he was given the chance to be."

"Did he work a lot?"

"Yeah, quite a bit. He still works a lot. We didn't really see him much, growing up."

We grow silent, and my frown deepens. When the hell did we enter Gloomyville? Definitely not the bus you want to be on during date-night. Gloomyville is so far in the other direction of Date-NightTown that you'll have to take three buses, six trains, hitchhike with scary truck drivers for 237 miles, grab a cab, wade through a bog and finally ride in the back of a pig-truck all night to even get from one to the other.

"And your mom?" I'm almost afraid to ask now.

"Oh, my mom... is a special lady. I'm just going to be honest with you – she's insane. And... she probably won't like you."

I straighten up so fast I get a little dizzy. "What do you mean she won't like me?"

I suddenly feel like I need to barf a little.

Edward shakes his head quickly. "No, I don't mean it like that. Let me explain, okay?"

"_What_ do you _mean_, she won't like me?" I demand to know.

His long, sexy fingers wrap around one of my knees and he squeezes reassuringly.

"She's insane, alright? She has absolutely no problems with openly admitting that I'm her favourite son – even in front of Emmett – and she treats me like I'm still five years old. She won't like you on the sole principle that you're my girlfriend. It's nothing personal, it's just the serious malfunction in her brain."

I'm still not convinced I like this.

"So what, she hasn't even met me yet, and she's just decided she's not going to like me?"

He smiles ruefully. "Yeah, kinda. I did tell you she's an absolute lunatic, right? I'm really sorry I'm going to have to put you through the absolute hell of meeting her, but..."

He trails off slowly, and I attempt to digest what he just told me.

Then I get pissed.

"What the hell!" I semi-screech. "She can't just do that. She can't just _decide_ she doesn't like me before she's even met me. That is just so... _so_... oh my god, that is so... so... _rude_!" The word trembles on my anger-infused voice.

Edward's arm comes around my shoulder again and starts rubbing my arm. "I know, baby. I'm bred from a crazy woman."

"Well! Hell if I'm going to take that just lying down. She may be crazy, but so am I and I won't let her break me."

"Break you?" Edward sounds concerned. And a little scared.

"Yeah, break me. If she still treats you like you're five years old and hates me just because I'm your girlfriend, that means she's going to be a complete and utter _hag_ – sorry – to me in an attempt to make me back off or something equally ridiculous."

"You're making me feel like a slab of meat."

"Well, you're my slab of meat now, and I'm going to make sure she freaking knows it."

I lift my chin and give him a determined little nod. His lips twitch a little, despite the scared look in his eyes.

"You're gonna, what? Mark your territory?"

"Yeah, in a sense."

He considers me for a few seconds in silence before slowly shaking his head with a wry chuckle.

"Fine, knock yourself out. But I draw the line at peeing on my leg, alright?"

"No peeing," I swear.

"Good," he mumbles before leaning forward and kissing me lightly, but slowly.

His lips on mine is the best feeling ever. There is nothing that can beat this. Absolutely nothing. The whole world melts away until it's just us, sitting closely together, just being. I don't care if people are looking at us, I don't care if they think we're strange – that might be the truth, but at least I'll be strange with him. At least I'll have him with me.

He pulls away eventually, and gives my knee another little squeeze.

"Come on, I'm starving. Let's get some food," he says quietly and then helps me off the sidewalk. With our fingers weaved together, we start walking down the street again.

We haven't gone very far when the door to what appears to be a tattoo shop opens, and a very familiar face wanders out of it.

Cullen sees us at the same time we see him, and an expression of surprised delight lights up his handsome face. Seconds later a woman walks out behind him, holding his hand. She is so pretty that I actually gasp just a little bit.

"Hey, guys," Cullen says a tad too loudly – but then again, I did call him Really Loud Guy Edward Works With in my head for a while, so I suppose the volume of his voice isn't surprising.

"Hey man," Edward replies, stepping forward to give him a man-slap on the arm in greeting. I can't stop staring at the pretty girl though. I feel like a dude.

Edward reaches out with his arm to pull me forward. "Bella, this is Esme – Esme, this is Bella."

I smile, she smiles back, and all the normal pleasantries society expects you to do when you meet a friend of a friend are done.

"I didn't know you were getting a new tattoo," Edward says, waving his hand at the shop. Carlisle only grins and shakes his head.

"I didn't. Well, not this time anyway – we were here for Esme."

Edward's eyebrows travel up his forehead in shock, and I feel my mouth fall open just a little bit. I don't know why I'm so surprised – I mean, she's dating Cullen after all; the guy probably has tattoos on his ass cheeks. But still... knowing that she comes from such religious fanatics who heavily disapprove of Carlisle's chosen skincare, one would think she might have certain reservations about getting one herself.

Maybe she's a rebel, tired of her parents' oppressiveness, and she has finally found the one thing she has always been searching for in Carlisle – a way to express herself freely, a way to finally _live her life_, the way _she_ wants to live it. All thanks to Carlisle, because they're perfect for each other; anyone can see that. It has to be true love, love like no other, ever.

It's impossible not to equate Carlisle and Esme's relationship with a fairy-tale. Alice has compared them to a bodice-ripper-romance though, so I don't feel so bad about my thoughts.

Esme only laughs at our stupefied expressions before turning her back to us. She has on a very convenient open-back shirt, thus displaying... a bunch of cellophane taped to her skin.

"Oh, well... that's... what is it?"

I can see some vague outline of something underneath the layers of plastic, but other than that I might as well be looking at one of those paintings drawn by pigs with brushes in their mouths. I can't see shit.

Edward even leans forward and squints his eyes as if he's trying to solve some complicated puzzle. Now I suddenly want to see him dressed up as Indiana Jones. Maybe for Halloween. He can go treasure hunting in The Holy Land.

"It's the beginning of a phoenix. We only did the outline today," Esme explains.

Edward and I both nod and 'ahh' appreciatively while my mind is going crazy with thoughts about whether or not she's going to try to hide it from her parents. I've never met Mr. and Mrs. Platt, but I can't help but be really stereotypical and imagine them as these middle-aged people who wear tweed and cardigans and Mr. Platt probably has a different bowtie for every day of the week.

A brief mental image of these two thumping Esme over the head with a bible is far more disturbing than I would have guessed.

"I think Esme is going to become an addict," Carlisle says with a grin. As mine and Edward's expressions slowly morph into confused horror over his random comment, he hurries to explain further. "Of tattoos. Addicted to tattoos." As the two of us relax in understanding, the most tender and happy smile I have ever seen on RLGEWW's blooms on his face. "Even with a needle drilling into her skin, she just sat there grinning the whole time."

He sounds so proud. I want to clasp my hands together in front of my chest and coo at him. He totally loves her. I can just see it on his face when he looks at her.

"Yeah, probably," Esme agrees. She then turns to me with a confidential air and says in a slightly hushed voice, "Carlisle has opened my eyes to so many things that I've always wanted, but never thought I'd get to experience. Tattoos, porn, good sex, multiple orgasms... a huge dick... I could go on and on."

_Oh, wow. Okay then_.

I blink at her a few times and stutter like a babbling idiot. "Oh, I-... uh, you-... o-okay."

While Edward looks away in embarrassment, Carlisle just puffs his chest up in self-satisfied smugness.

"Yup; showing her the good life," he announces with a sweep of his arm, which he then proceeds to wrap around Esme. Then he grabs her ass and growls at her.

I don't know whether to laugh or awkwardly pretend that the pigeon waddling around on the sidewalk beside us is the most fascinating thing ever.

"Jesus, Carlisle!" Esme exclaims, but her chastisement is completely ruined by the flirtatious giggle that leaves her directly after.

I chance a glance at Edward, and he looks mildly uncomfortable about being thus exposed to Carlisle and Esme's sexual chemistry. I give him a sympathetic smile, even though I'm not sure this is the correct gesture called for in situations like this one. I don't know what else I could do though – get him drunk so he'll forget the whole thing?

"So what are you guys up to?" Esme asks when she and Carlisle are done with what I can only assume is foreplay to their foreplay.

"Just going out for some dinner," Edward answers, looking grateful that he will no longer be hearing about his friend's huge dick.

"Ah, date-night?"

I nod and smile at Carlisle, who suddenly get's a speculative look on his face.

"Say, Bella, speaking of dating..." – here he casts an impish look at Edward who makes an ineffective noise of protest – "... I've always wondered how Edward managed to trick you into dating him. I mean, you're a bit out of his league, to be honest."

All three of us have varied reactions. Edward seethes out an angry "Dude!", Esme utters a shocked "Carlisle!" as she slaps him on the arm, and I just stare at him, trying to figure out the best way to respond to that.

His devilish grin – which makes him look like a ridiculously handsome but kinda douchey movie star – is clearly a taunt. He's eagerly awaiting my answer, and my insane brain doesn't feel like holding back. I look him dead in the eye, straighten my back and give him a soft smile.

"It was his personality and wit that drew me in and dazzled me. I couldn't stay away after that," I say and then give a small pause. "His humongous cock helped too."

Stunned silence settles over them. But then Edward is spiralling back into the hysterical laughter, echoing back from before, Esme is desperately trying to hold back snorts, and Carlisle frowns disapprovingly at Edward.

"Did you tell her to say that?"

He points an accusatory finger at my hyena of a boyfriend, who only shakes his head as he continues to laugh.

"Why would he tell me to say that?"

Cullen huffs a little. "A while back I asked him the same question – what did he do to trick you to go out with him? He basically gave the same answer you just did. He even did the pause before what I believe is a serious overstatement regarding the size of his schlong."

I gasp and completely disregard his remark about The Hard One. "No way! That is so cool. Dude," I say, turning to Edward, "we're like brain-twins."

"I know, right?" he answers in between his laughter, and then offers up his hand for a high-five.

We're the most awesomest couple ever.

"Aww, you guys – you two are so cute together," Esme fawns, giving us an adoring look. I feel like I should disagree with her, following those pesky social guidelines of acceptable behaviour of not accepting a compliment without dispute, but I honestly can't be bothered. She's totally right, anyway.

"No, they're not," Carlisle scoffs, making both me and his girlfriend frown at him. Edward is still laughing to himself, so I don't think he cares. "They're weird."

"I'm not weird," I protest, even as my inner voice cackles hysterically at the lie that just slipped from my mouth.

_Oh Swan, if _you_ are normal, I fear for the rest of the world_.

"And Edward isn't weird either," I say as an afterthought. I should probably get in the habit of defending my boyfriend against verbal slander.

Carlisle gives me a '_come now, don't be silly_'-look. "He's a little weird."

_He totally is_. "Shut up, he's not."

"Fine, he's 'not'," he says, rolling his eyes as he air-quotes me. "But add you two together? Undeniably weird."

My mouth opens a few times as I try to come up with a witty retort, but somehow his words speak of too much truth for me to be able to defend us. So I go with an ever-so-mature, "You're weird."

_Oh my god, Bella. New low. New low, dude. That was so lame. Pull it together, man_.

"No one's weird," Esme interjects diplomatically, giving Carlisle a calm pat on the chest. She kind of sounds like a mom trying to console her children.

"No, I agree with Bella," Edward objects, finally over his giggling. "Cullen's weird. Have you seen him stocking the shelves at work?"

_No. Why is that weird? How does he stock the shelves weird?_

"That's just because I'm trying to piss off Platt," Carlisle says with a smirk, before casting an apologetic smile at Esme. "Sorry, baby."

_Why is no one explaining this to me? How does he stock the shelves weird?_

"No, that's okay. I try to piss my dad off on a regular basis, too."

"Is that why you're dating me?" Carlisle teases her, and I still don't know what he does while stocking shelves that would qualify as weird.

"No, but it will be a definite plus to see how red in the face he gets from the rage once we tell him."

"Wait, he doesn't know yet?" I ask, momentarily forgetting about Carlisle's shelf-stocking ways. "But... hasn't that Felix dude said anything? You were all so sure he'd go running to her parents to tell them."

Carlisle shrugs and Esme shakes her head.

"My dad hasn't said anything about it, and he hasn't really been acting any differently from how he was before," she tells us. "Either Felix hasn't said anything, or my dad is just..."

"Biding his time," Carlisle mumbles darkly, and Esme shoots him a disapproving look.

"My dad isn't cunning enough to 'bide his time' for some great _revenge plan_, Carlisle. Either he knows or he doesn't, and I'm leaning towards doesn't."

"I haven't noticed a difference in his behaviour," Edward offers. "I mean, if he knew you were off making out with Esme and going with her to tattoo-shops, I'm pretty sure we would all be aware of it. He isn't exactly the kind of man who hides his feelings."

"Fine, you guys believe what you want. I _promise_ you, I've seen him look at me differently these past few weeks. He and Felix probably concocted some kind of plan to-"

"Oh, baby, listen to yourself," Esme interrupts him. "Felix? With a plan? Please, the man can't plan his way out of a revolving door."

"Why do you think he hasn't said anything?" I ask the group as a whole. "I mean, if he really wants Esme back, he wouldn't want you two together, and if he's really as dumb as you guys say he is, he probably wouldn't see the flaws in a plan which involved telling on you two. Flaws like the fact that you're a grown woman and your parents have no say over who you do or do not date, and the fact that you'd probably hate him quite a bit for being so mean."

"That is a good point..." Esme says speculatively, pursing her lips in thought. "He really is that stupid."

"That's why I'm telling you, Felix and Platt are in this together! They're bid-"

"They're not biding their time! Stop being so paranoid. Plus, what's the worst they can do? Hate you? They do that already. Dad can't fire you on the basis of who you're dating, and Felix has no say in my life anymore. I don't really care if they know or not."

"We've been over this already, baby," Carlisle says in a somewhat patronising tone. "Customer bathrooms, remember? That's why we can't tell them yet. I don't really want to be stuck cleaning them for all eternity."

"You're planning on working there that long?" Of course I would ask such an inane question. Of course.

Carlisle makes a questioning face at me. "No," he says. His tone and voice reveals how dumb he thinks my question is. "I was using a hyperbole."

Before I can respond, Esme shakes her head at him. "But you're looking for new job anyway, Carlisle. As soon as you find something, we can let my parents know we're dating, and they won't be able to do anything about it."

"You're looking for a new job?" Edward asks, looking confused and a bit... _hurt_?

I'm hurt too. Not for a sane reason or anything, but if Carlisle stops working at the drugstore, I can't call him Really Loud Guy Edward Works With anymore. It'd have to be Really Loud Guy Edward Used to Work With, or RLGEUtWW for short, and that just doesn't have the same ring to it as RLGEWW.

"Yeah," Carlisle answers Edward, and a regretful expression flits over his face. "I'm sorry, dude, I was going to tell you..."

"No no, it's fine," Edward says, waving away Cullen's apology. Kind of. The strained set of his lips reveals that it really isn't fine. I can see this straight away, because I'm quite familiar with saying I'm fine when I'm not. I subtly step closer to him, to offer him my silent support and comfort.

"I mean, I haven't found anything yet, so I'll be staying at the drugstore for a while..." Carlisle says, looking conflicted. Clearly he is also picking up on Edward's mood. "I haven't been looking for long, which is why I haven't said anything about it yet. But it wasn't like I was just going to take off without saying anything."

Edward nods slowly. "No, I get it. I'm happy for you, getting out there, finding something better and... stuff." He scratches his neck awkwardly.

We all sort of just stand there for a while, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the sudden silence. Esme turns out to be our saviour. I think I love her.

She grimaces a little and shifts her back. "Hey, baby?" she says, softly touching Carlisle's arm. "My back is starting to hurt quite a bit – we should probably head back home."

We all smile gratefully.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Carlisle says, wrapping his arm carefully around Esme before giving me and Edward a final smile. "Well, see you guys later. Enjoy your date and shit."

_Thank you?_

"See you later, man," Edward says, reaching over to hold my hand. My lungs suddenly feel too small for my body and my fingers are tingling. I love it when he holds my hand.

"Bella, it was nice to finally meet you," Esme says to me as we start to manoeuvre ourselves around, as you do in a group when you're going in two different directions.

"Yeah, you too," I say as Esme's eyes slip to something over my shoulder. Immediately her face breaks out into an expression of pure adoration, her mouth forming an awed little 'O'.

I turn my head to see what caused this reaction in her, and just have time to see the baby hanging in a harness off its dad's chest as he walks past us. Esme grips tightly onto Carlisle's arm as she follows the man with her eyes, craning her head over her shoulder to keep them in her sight.

"Ooh, Carlisle, did you see? Look how cute-"

Carlisle interrupts her with a tired tone of voice as he rolls his eyes. "No, Esme, we're not getting one."

I can only assume they've had this discussion before.

"Oh, but _look at the baby_! Have you ever seen anything so-"

"We're not getting one."

Esme makes a noise that's an excellent marriage of a whine and a moan of longing.

"Snap out of it, woman!" Carlisle tells her while firmly, but gently, turning her back around. "We're _not_ getting one."

Esme does a genuine pout of disappointment. And my mouth starts speaking without my brain's approval.

"Why are you talking about babies like they're puppies?"

All of them turn their heads slowly to stare at me. I instantly feel the need to defend myself.

"I was just under the general impression that you _had_ babies, not that you '_got_' them."

"Good point," Carlisle tells me. "Fine, we're not _having_ one either."

"I knew there was a reason you were using your employee discount to buy all those condoms."

"Shut up, Masen."

"But we don't use con-"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah! Sshh. He was joking, baby."

"Oh. Right. Wow, sorry, that was way TMI," Esme apologises while a small blush rises in her pretty little cheeks. I sympathise with her, not only for what she just said – because I probably would have done the same – but also for her blush. Because I blush over everything.

If I tried really hard, I could probably blush in second-hand embarrassment for Esme right now.

"So, hey, how about we go home?" she continues, starting to pull Carlisle away from us. "Uh, see you guys later. And please forget I said anything about the... the-... that last thing I just said. _Jesus_... okay, bye!"

And then she's dragging Carlisle quickly down the street, wildly shaking her head at herself.

"She shouldn't feel so bad about what she said," Edward remarks as we watch the two of them disappear around a corner.

"Yeah. She needs to hang out with us more – once she's spent a little more time with me, she'll realise my word vomit and facepalm-moments are way worse than that, and then she won't feel so bad."

"I think your word vomit is adorable," he says, leaning in to kiss the side of my head.

"Plus," I continue as if he never spoke, "she was talking about Carlisle's huge dick with no problem whatsoever – that was more TMI than the condom thing."

"Okay, let's not go there, please?" Edward protests, squeezing my arm softly. I nod reluctantly, promising not to mention his friend's apparently huge dick again.

"Come on, I need some food."

We walk in silence for a while before I yet again bug him to tell me where we're going.

"No, it's a surprise."

"Is it a good surprise?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, you'll have to tell me."

"In my experience, good surprises usually involve chocolate of some kind."

"And bad surprises?"

Damn, I thought the chocolate-remark would have made him give something away.

"Bad surprises usually involve awkward silences, badly withheld boredom and crappy sex."

A shocked laugh leaves him. "You've been surprised with bad sex?"

"Well, the bad sex wasn't really the surprise – that was just a by-product. My high school boyfriend thought it would be fun to take me to one of those monster-truck shows for my birthday, which I suffered through in intense boredom. Then we sat in the parked car – which he had borrowed from his mom, by the way – for like twenty minutes in awkward silence, and then the bad sex happened."

"Why would you ever have sex with him after a crappy date like that? And on your birthday? You could have just said you had a headache or something."

"Oh, no no. I was the one to initiate the sex-part. The awkward silence was getting to me, and I just wanted something to do. So I did him."

Edward gives me a sceptical look. "You had sex with a guy to break an awkward silence?"

"What? I was 17, and kinda horny. It made sense at the time." He continues to give me his sceptical face. "I don't do it _now_! Jeez."

"But still... you went through all that and then added crappy sex to the whole ordeal. That's like... a really bad Sundae, with a cherry on top that passed its expiration date two years earlier."

"Thank you, Edward, for that charming comparison. Keep it up and I'll lose my appetite. And also, I didn't think it was crappy at the time, did I?"

His sceptical face becomes confused. "How does that work?"

"I didn't exactly have a lot to compare it with back then. So, at the time, it was pretty good. Not as good as it usually was, when we didn't have to cram ourselves into the backseat of a car, but like... a C, C-plus maybe."

We turn a corner and start walking down a busy, slightly quirky street. I've never been here before, and I'm getting really curious as to where he's taking me.

"Are you still in the habit of grading your sexual experiences?"

Is that a hint of worry in his voice?

"Yes. Don't worry, you always get an A-plus. With a golden star next to it. Which is, coincidentally, why I now know the post-monster-truck-show sex was bad."

"I don't follow."

"Well, in comparison to _our_ sexlife, everything I've experienced with other guys kinda... pales."

Edward's steps slowly come to a halt as he stares at me. I stop and look back at him, raising an eyebrow in question. He completely ignores all the people who now have to walk around us in favour of standing still.

His lips twitch into a shy smile. "Really?"

I roll my eyes, but can't help the smile that grows on my own face. "Yes, really, you dork. The best sex I've ever had has been with you. Hands-down."

His shy smile steadily grows into a smug grin. I punch him lightly in the stomach, making him bend over slightly with a guttural noise.

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he tells me as he straightens up, smug smile amplified by about ten. "I'm the best sex you've ever had."

"Shut up."

"No way, I'm writing this in my diary. And putting it online. I'll make a youtube video about it."

"And then I'll break up with you."

"You can't break up with the best sex you've ever had."

_Ah, he's got me there_.

"Yes, I can."

He shakes his head and steps closer to me, putting his free hand on my hip. I swallow down a small gasp because he's so close to me now, and I can smell him and _oh my god_, he smells so nice.

"I really wish you wouldn't though."

My eyes slowly rise upward until I'm trapped by his gaze. I usually hate when people say that, because how can you be trapped by someone's eyes? You just look away, and hey, problem solved! But now... now I get it. I can't look away. I can't stop staring into Edward's green eyes, because the way he's looking at me right now is making my heart go into overdrive and I think my brain is having a small melt down.

Also, my girly parts are writhing on the floor in lust-filled ecstasy, so looking away really isn't an option.

"Why not?" I all but whimper.

"Because you're the best sex I've ever had too, and I really don't want to lose that." He pauses, and lets go of my hip in order to gently brush some hair over my shoulder. "Or lose you."

And now my lungs don't work either.

I make a keening, whimpering noise vaguely similar to "hhhuuuung".

His crooked smile lets me know that the embarrassing sound I just emitted greatly amuses him. He leans in and presses his lips in a lingering kiss against my forehead.

"Even though all this talk about sex and bad dates is really quite entertaining, my stomach is about to eat itself, so how about we continue this conversation at the restaurant?"

"You're the one who stopped in the middle of the street. Don't blame me for your inability to multi-task, Edward," I tell him as I somehow find the inhuman strength to turn around and walk away from him. I yelp in a high-pitched tone when he immediately catches up with me and smacks me right on the ass.

"You distracted me with your talk about sex." He grins at me sideways as he grabs a hold of my hand again. "You can't expect me to be able to walk and talk about sex with you at the same time."

"Sure I can. I can do it. And I'm wearing heels."

"Yeah well, you don't have the threat of a boner growing in your pants. Walking and boners don't really mix all that well."

I glance down at his crotch. How can I not when he mentions boners?

"You have a boner?"

Edward groans lightly under his breath as I ask this just as we walk past two teenage girls. Their mouths fall open as they glance down at Edward's crotch too.

He turns his head to glare at me, but before he can say anything about it, I interrupt him.

"Oh, don't you dare imply that was my fault. You were the one who mentioned boners in the first place. You can't expect me to just leave it at that. The state of your peen is en-"

"Don't call it a 'peen'."

"Sssh, I'm talking. The state of your peen is endlessly fascinating to me."

"I really wish you'd stop calling it a 'peen'."

"What do you want me to call it? Penis? Cock, dick? Disco stick? Purple Headed Warrior of Love?"

"Yes, that last one. I find it incredibly sexy."

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind."

"Good, and we're here."

We once again come to a full stop in the middle of the street, and Edward sweeps his arm in a generous gesture. The place we're standing in front of is squeezed in between a random magic-shop and a high-fashion boutique of all things. The building looks old and quaint and absolutely perfect.

"What is this?" I ask, taking in all the dark woods and small windows and the curiously low door frame.

"An authentic English pub," Edward answers, looking excited and pleased. "The owners are originally from London, and they've had this place for ages. They have the best beer."

"This is so cool," I say as Edward starts pulling me forward and into the building. It smells faintly of smoke, despite the 'no smoking' signs hanging all over the place; it's as if it the scent has simply engrained itself into the walls over the years. It also smells like the most amazing food ever, and my stomach growls viciously.

It's dark and everything is wood and soft, plus couches with deep red fabric set against the walls, and round small tables tucked into corners and the bar is massive and I think this is my new favourite place ever. Edward allows me a few seconds of staring around in wide-eyed wonder before he chuckles and softly grabs my arm.

"Come on, let's find a table."

««◊»»

"So... good surprise, or bad surprise?" Edward asks me. Stupid question.

"Amazing surprise." I point with my fork at the _triple_ chocolate cake sitting in front of me. "I got chocolate, didn't I?"

He tries to hide a smile, but he fails miserably.

"I can't believe you actually ordered that cake," he says, shaking his head in wonder.

"Are you calling me fat?" I know he's not, but it's fun to mess with his head.

"If I said yes, would you kill me?"

"Yes. By sitting on you. Clearly my chubby ass would suffocate you."

"Death by Bella's ass? Doesn't sound too bad."

I try not to smile. And fail miserably.

"Oh my god, I'm so full," he continues randomly, leaning back in his chair. His shirt rises up over his stomach and I can see the dark bronze trail of Happiness, pointing like a huge blinking neon sign to The Hard One.

"Do you have to rub it in? I was only kidding about the fat-thing before, but now I'm getting self-conscious. It's not like I only had a salad for dinner."

I had a burger. With 'chips'. And it had cheese and bacon on it, and it was the most amazing burger I have ever had. It was also the size of my face. So for me to be able to eat that, and then scarf down a piece of cake, while Edward has the same meal and then complains about being full while I stuff my mouth with said cake, is a bit... sad.

He rolls his eyes and sits forward again. I protest loudly when he snatches the fork from my grasp, which he then proceeds to stab through the cake. He takes a massive piece and shoves it into his mouth, which I also protest against.

My cake, dammit!

"There, happy now?" he says, and then he starts chewing. And then his face goes blank. And then he stares down at the cake as his eyes widen in shock and adoration. "Oh maw gawd," he mumbles around the crumbs.

Because it's the most amazing cake _in the world_.

Probably.

I take my fork back and pull the plate closer to myself. "Get your own slice," I warn him. What kind of man is foolish enough to try to get between a girl and her chocolate?

"I think I'm going to have to," he says after swallowing. "I'll ask if I can get one to-go."

"Why don't you just eat it here?"

He quirks an eyebrow at me and then leans his elbows on the table. I bend closer to him, because his voice drops to a low, deep and dark murmur.

"Because you said this was a good surprise, and I can only assume that good surprises – unlike the bad ones – end with _amazing_ sex..."

He trails off suggestively, and then unashamedly looks down at my boobs.

I gulp. "Are you saying you want a piece of cake to eat after this amazing sex?"

He slowly smirks and looks back up at my eyes. I clench my thighs together, because holy mother of jam crackers. The look on his face right now? I don't know how I'm even still alive.

"Possibly. But I was thinking more along the lines of how amazing that cake might taste if I ate if off your chest."

And... dead.

My voice is no more than a shaky whisper when I answer him.

"Do they make doggie bags at this place? I want mine to-go."

* * *

**Two things**:

Some of you may have noticed that despite saying I would, I did in fact _not_ participate in the Fandom For Preemies. This was basically due to the intended o/s not coming to me quickly enough, and a fast approaching deadline. I have every intention of finishing the story at some point – I'll probably post it in two or three parts sometime in the future.

Also, the o/s I wrote for the **Enchantments Contest** is now posted on my profile; it's called "Death Lies On Her", if you feel like giving it a read.

I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but as I said, this Uni thing has been a pretty huge adjustment. I'm praying it won't take me two months to get another chapter of this story out again.

Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans, and for the rest of us... well, uh... Happy Non-Festive Week!

Did you know that you guys are totally awesome for still reading this? Cuz you are.

True story.

/Vic


	14. The Tricky Lunch

I hope you've all had a wonderful time over the Holidays. Personally, I've spent the last two weeks pretending the coursework I have to do doesn't actually exist. The ease with which I convince myself that my delusions are real is quite worrying.

Thanks as always to bouncy 72, magnessina and OLVamptramp for their wonderful beta-skills.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and blah blah blah. We all know how it goes.

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Tricky Lunch**

BPOV

We're leaving for Edward's parents house in five weeks. To say that I'm getting a little nervous would be like saying that the ocean has a rather large amount of water in it.

I don't know why I'm nervous. I know that his mother won't like me, and I've come to accept this as a necessary evil, so it's not her. She pisses me off, but she doesn't make me nervous. I won't be intimidated by a woman who can't look at her adult son without seeing him as a five-year old little boy, because that's even more insane than the delusions I usually have.

I think I might just be nervous because I don't know what to expect, but whenever I come to this conclusion I start second-guessing myself; it sounds way too logical compared to my usual brand of crazy, so that can't be the reason. I'm then left with my brain yanking me around in endless circles of insanity, which is actually more exhausting than you'd think. At one point I was convinced I was nervous because I might suddenly develop a latent propensity for sleepwalking and I'd stumble into his parents' bedroom one night while they were getting down and dirty, and I'd then crawl into bed with them, mumbling something about apples eating my face off.

I very nearly asked Edward if we could pack restraints, just so he could tie me to the bed and prevent any late-night escapades, but I managed to talk myself off that particular ledge.

I hate feeling nervous, because the tickling in my stomach feels super creepy. My fear of butterflies, and all its incarnations, will never be cured, so 'having butterflies' isn't exactly ideal for me. I wish it'd stop.

When I'm nervous, I try to distract myself as much as possible, and during the course of my relationship with Edward, I've realised that he is the very best distraction ever.

He's also, incidentally, exceptionally good at catching moths and banishing them from my bedroom, which we discovered last night. While I – ironically enough – cocooned myself under the covers, screaming in nonsensical panic and pathological fear, he chased the _thing_ around until it was safely apprehended and released back into the wild.

I hope something ate it.

Either way, I'm becoming more and more convinced that Edward is absolutely perfect for me. He's like the missing puzzle piece of my soul; the peanut butter to my jelly; the lime to my tequila; the Tab A to my Slot B. At the tender age of twenty-four, my egg-makers are telling me to breed with this man. Have his babies. Allow him to impregnate me. Put a bun in my oven. Hell, open up a freaking bakery between my legs.

Multiple times.

I find this slightly disturbing, even more so than the mental image of my vagina churning out fresh loafs of bread. I'm not opposed to the idea of a bunch of Mini-wards running around my ankles, but it would be great if my ovaries could listen to what my brain is saying.

Or rather, screaming. I'M TOO YOUNG TO HAVE BABIES.

Way, way too young.

Obviously, my ovaries are both deaf and stupid.

I'm feeling more nervous.

It's like an endless circle of nerves, butterflies, fear and babies. It's hell. It's an anxiety attack waiting to happen.

So distractions are good. Distractions are very good, because they take my mind off babies and nerves and butterflies, and allow me to focus on more important stuff, like the competition Edward and I have started against each other.

It's the 'Battle of the Orgasms'. The champion, winner and eventual ruler of the galaxy is the one who makes the other one come as fast as possible. Edward won last week, after performing miracles and making me orgasm twice in three minutes.

The bastard did some extensive research online, which I feel is a bit like cheating, but Edward only views it as looking at porn. We're still undecided on the final verdict.

I'm determined to win this week, and the humongous bunch of bananas I bought over the weekend have all 'mysteriously' disappeared. Alice keeps throwing weird looks between me and the fruit bowl. I think she's on to me.

As distractions go, consuming large amounts of bananas – after having sculpted the tip to look like the head of a penis and giggling like a schoolgirl while perfecting one's BJ skills – is a very good one. Edward won't know what hit him.

««◊»»

Edward doesn't know what just hit him. I don't think he's even conscious anymore.

Who knew you could be so happy to have a two-minute man? Or well, more like a seventy-seconds man, but really – who's counting?

I wipe my mouth, not even having to try to get the cockiest grin ever on my face. Edward's staring straight up at the ceiling, his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. I've never heard him pant this loudly before.

I wave my hand in front of his face, but the only response I get is a deep grunt.

"I win, right?"

The pause is long before another grunt leaves him. I start bouncing up and down in victory, jostling him as much as I possibly can.

"And I didn't have to resort to cheating. That was all natural skill, baby. Take _that_, sucker!"

I point my finger obnoxiously at his face and he doesn't even have enough energy in him to roll his eyes. I'm so freaking good at this.

"Doesn't that... technically... make _you_... the sucker?" Edward says through his pants, giving me a rather sour look as I start jabbing my finger against his forehead.

Lovingly, of course.

"Obviously. I'm the best sucker there ever was."

"Of... course..."

I dive in for a quick kiss before swinging off his legs. I make sure to collapse next to him in such a way so as to maximise the bed's bouncing. Edward huffs as he's jostled violently.

"I like this game," I tell him, grinning when he slowly turns his head to look at me. "The come-game, I mean, not the bed-bouncing. Although, I suppose you could substitute the name of the latter for the former."

He gives me the look. The one where I know he is, at that very moment, calling me crazy with his eyes. It's a very effective look.

He huffs, groans, pants and grunts as he slowly pushes himself into a seated position and reaches for his discarded underwear. It seriously takes him like a minute to get them back on, and I swear he's sweating from the exertion when he collapses next to me again. He just lays there for a bit, looking dazed and confused, but not so much confused as just really high off that hormone that's released when you orgasm.

Eventually though, Edward's nature wins out and he sluggishly moves his arms to bring me into his side.

I love that Edward always wants to cuddle. I snuggle up against him, pressing my nose against his neck. I sniff him like it's nobodies' business. He smells _so good_, all the freaking time. I seriously do need to steal more of his clothes so I can sniff them when he's not around. I've already taken like three shirts without him noticing, so I'm sure I can get away with a few more. I just need to keep them on a rotating schedule and bring them back every once in a while, so they get re-saturated with his scent.

_Oh my god, I'm so creepy and stalker-ish it's not even funny anymore_.

"You know," Edward says after a moment of silence, in which I have overcome my aversion to being creepy and just accepted it as part of my nature, "it's kinda unfair that a girl can orgasm after two minutes and that's considered 'hot', but when a guy does it, he's just pathetic. And unmanly. And a loser."

"You're not a loser. I just have an exceptionally talented tongue. No one would be able to blame you."

His fingers tickle the skin of my back softly, running up and down my spine. I shiver with pleasure.

"Your tongue is really good. That thing you did, at the end... jesus motherfucking christ. You really need to do that again."

"Yes! I knew you'd like that."

"I more than like it. I worship it, I adore it. I think of it as a goddess and I want to pray at its shrine every single day."

"What do you think's the Latin word for 'tongue wiggle'? Then your goddess could have an impressive name and you could actually talk about her in public without people thinking you're a weird pervert. They'd just think you're really smart, and have brief mental images of you studying ancient Roman history in a darkened library."

Edward's fingers stop on my back. "Why is the library dark?"

"Because you're so studious and smart that you stay back to research ancient Roman history far past everyone else. They're all wusses anyway – you have the best stamina of every smart person, ever, and you can research all night and day if you so choose. Also, I'm the nerdy-by-day-foxy-by-night librarian who's been having illicit fantasies about you since the first time you entered the vast building in a confident manner, carrying large books and raking your fingers through your hair. I'm planning on seducing you and your huge... brain, and I turned down the lights to create a lusty ambience."

I turn my head up to see his face when he doesn't answer.

That dazed-and-high look is back.

"You don't... happen to have a black pencil skirt and librarian-style glasses, do you? And those sexy black tights with the seam running up the back of your legs?"

"I don't have the tights, but I could buy some."

"Really?" He's so cute when he's happy.

"Sure. But you need to get a scholar-person outfit. Like... khaki slacks and a beige tweed jacket. And loafers."

His nose scrunches up. "Do I have to wear the loafers? I mean, there isn't a lot I won't do for sex, but I think I need to draw the line at wearing loafers." He pauses and takes in my expression. "Stop it. Please don't pout like that, Bella. Stop it. Stop. That look won't work on me this time. I don't want to wear loafers. Please stop. Stop it. Sto-... fine, I'll wear loafers."

"Yay! Thank you," I say, stretching up to kiss his chin. "I think I'm a closeted role-player – I'm getting really excited about this now."

I'm going to have to scout Seattle for a suitable library where we can be left alone for long enough to fulfil our newly established fantasy. Or bribe a bookshop owner. Or just move my desk in front of my bookshelf and make Edward use his imagination.

We'll figure something out.

"Excited how?" Edward asks, rolling onto his side to see me better. His hand magically finds its way under my bra.

"That kind of excited," I say, suddenly breathless as his long, amazingly sexy fingers prove just how magical they are. Harry Potter's wand has nothing on Edward's fingers.

I gasp as his thumb lightly brushes over my nipple, his simple touch making it rise like a ball of dough with lots and lots of yeast in it. Or something like that. I can't think when he touches me like this.

"I like this kind of excited," he murmurs against my neck, and I'm definitely inclined to agree with him. I think I make some kind of moany sound to let him know this, but I honestly can't be sure.

The sex gods may have lifted the cockblock-curse that ailed us early on in our relationship, but sometimes I think they're just out to get me. They do stupid shit, like give my father sudden ideas about calling me in the middle of Sexy Time.

There's nothing quite like your father calling you in the middle of Sexy Time to ruin the mood.

Edward looks startled when my phone suddenly blares out '_Bad Boys_' and I just groan in annoyance. Dad will never stop calling until I pick up, and hearing that ringtone – which he chose himself and won't let me change – over and over again is probably the easiest way to drive me insane.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

I swear a little – okay, a lot – as I roll away from Edward and grab my phone, doing my best to sound annoyed and aggravated, like a poked bear, when I answer.

"What?" I'm suddenly self-conscious about the fact that I'm only wearing my underwear and my mouth tastes like Edward's genitals. This doesn't seem right when you're speaking to a parental figure.

"'_What'? That's how you answer your phone now? I think you mean 'hello'_."

Oh, ha-ha.

"No, dad, I'm pretty sure I didn't."

Edward goes stiff as a board next to me, the fear coming off him in waves. He slithers under the covers so fast you'd think Charlie had just busted down the door.

"_I thought you had manners, Bella. Your mother and I raised you better than that. Or well, I did, anyway. The only useful thing your mother taught you was how to make art out of pasta, and I'm not even sure she did that right._"

In the background I can hear my mother's affronted voice, probably telling my dad he's a buttface or something equally mature.

"Given that you two raised me, it sometimes astounds me that I turned out as almost-normal as I am."

I choose to ignore Edward's muffled snort of incredulity.

"_Oh, honey, you never stood a Twinkie's chance at fat-camp of coming off normal. Have you met your mother?_"

"_Hey! Shut up, Swan! You're the one with the crazy-genes._"

"_I am not! My family is perfectly sane. Except for Rodney, but that mental breakdown had nothing to do with our genes. It wasn't exactly our fault that he watched all those documentaries_."

"Hey, as much as I love these family reunions and stuff, can we get back on topic? I'm kinda in the middle of something."

'Something' being my boyfriend feeling me up with his magical hands of magic and sex.

"_You have a life? Well, I'll be damned – never thought I'd see the day. I'm so proud of you, Bella._"

"Shut up. Yes, I have a life, one I'd very much like to get back to at some point in the near future. Is there a reason for this phone call, or were you just gripped by a sudden need to insult your only offspring?"

"_Both._"

"Oh my god, dad, seriously – I'm going to hang up soon."

"_Fine, fine. God, you're boring sometimes._"

"Dad! What the hell? Knock it off."

"_Fine. Sorry. I was just calling to let you know that grandpa's going to Seattle next week._"

I sit up straighter, suddenly feeling much happier about this interruption. "Grandpa's coming here?"

"_Yep. He has a little business to take care of, and I'm sure he'd want to meet you_."

I'm not ashamed to say that I bounce just a little. I love my grandfather.

"Ok, I'll give him a call and see if he wants to meet up."

"_I'm sure he's already made room for you in his schedule. Hey, maybe you could bring that... Edward guy with you. Let grandpa size him up._"

I'm no longer smiling. I am thoroughly unamused.

"Why, so grandpa can report back to you about what he thought?"

"_You're very smart sometimes, Bella. You get that from me._ _Ow! Jesus, Renée, that really hurt. You didn't have to smack me so hard_."

"_Maybe that'll teach you to stop insulting your wife_."

"_Oh honey, I do it out of love._"

"Dad, focus please. Stop insulting mom."

"_I can't help it. She makes it so easy._ _OW!_"

The covers rustle next to me, and Edward peers over the edge. His eyebrows are raised in question, and I just roll my eyes at my phone.

"My parents are insane," I whisper quietly at him. Apparently that's more than an adequate answer for him, because he just nods seriously and goes back to hiding under the covers. I'm tempted to remind him that he's behaving a little stupidly, since my father can't actually see him in bed with me, but I don't think he'd take that very well. He might get a little huffy, which tends to make him not-horny.

I need him horny.

"Dad? I'm hanging up now. I'll call grandpa. Thanks for the heads up."

"_What, that's it? You don't have more time for your old man?_"

"Not really, no."

"_Fine, you ungrateful brat. Get back to your 'life'_."

"Love you, dad."

"_I love you too, Bells. Your mom sort of likes you. Ow!_"

I can't help but laugh. My parents are so weird.

"Bye, dad."

I put my phone away and turn to look at Edward. He's still hiding. I think he's singing something in his head for entertainment, because I can see his toes wiggling to a set rhythm. Why is he so cute?

Three little life-changing words bubble up on my tongue, pressing against my teeth. It would be so easy to just let them slip out, to finally let them free. 'I love you'. No biggie, just fact. Just letting you know, that's all. You don't have to say it back, Edward, I just needed you to know that.

_Yeah, no._

I'm way too scared to say it first. I really can't. I want to, but I physically can't. I'm already nervous about meeting his family and my ovaries' obnoxious insistence that I get preggers immediately – I don't need to add the stress of emotionally exposing myself like that without the safety net of knowing he feels the same way.

Edward's the one with the balls, after all. Let's see him use them.

So instead, I shove the words away from my mind and crawl under the covers with him.

"Oh, hello," he says in surprise. His arms rise to hold up the fabric and I seize the opportunity to snuggle him.

"Hi. It's very cosy in here."

"It's better now that you've joined me."

I smile against his chest. Seriously, why is he so cute?

"I want to stay in here all day."

"The eventual lack of oxygen might become a problem."

"So we'll make an air-hole."

"And what about when it gets dark? We don't have any lights on, so we won't be able to see each other. And more importantly, I won't be able to see your boobs."

"So we'll-... uh... Oh! I know – let's build a _fort_!"

Edward's pause creates a dramatic effect.

"That's the most genius and awesome thing anyone has ever said. Can the fort have one rule, though?"

I look up at him. "Yeah, I guess. What rule?"

He leers in a devilishly handsome way. "There's a dress-code."

"Which is?"

"Only underwear allowed."

"Totally."

««◊»»

"I can't believe you tricked me into doing this," Edward says, nervously fidgeting with the fork in front of him.

"I didn't trick you into anything, you liar. I asked you if you wanted to go out for lunch and you agreed."

He glares at me. "You could have mentioned that your grandfather was going to be here too."

"Why do you always have to get so hung up on tiny, insignificant details like that, Edward?"

He glares at me some more and moves his fork a fraction of an inch to the right.

"You didn't have to trick me, you know. I would have said yes if you'd asked me if I wanted to go to lunch with you and your grandfather. At least I would have been prepared! I could have dressed nicely. Now I'm stuck wearing a t-shirt that says '_I am disappointment in you're grammar_', for fuck's sake."

"I love that shirt. And grandpa has a good sense of humour – he'll just laugh. Plus, the t-shirt proves that you have _good_ grammar, since you wouldn't find it witty if you didn't."

"Yeah, but what kind of impression does this give? If I wore a nice shirt, or basically anything that doesn't insult the dyslexic and chronically stupid, he'd take me more seriously. Now I'm just a kid who likes making fun of people."

"Grandpa likes making fun of people, too," I say in a calm and soothing voice, patting his knee.

He just sulks some more. "Yeah, and he'll make fun of _me_. And he'll think I'm this dumb punk and then he'll tell your dad and he'll hate me forever."

I knew I wasn't the only one thinking that grandpa and dad would exchange notes.

"Charlie would only hate you if you got Bella pregnant."

I jump in surprise at the unexpected voice behind us and fling myself around in my chair. Edward has suddenly gone stiff as a board, his eyes open wide in horror.

"Grandpa!" I say, stating the obvious. I scramble to my feet and fling my arms around him. He gives me a good squeeze back, like only grandfathers can.

"Bella Bee! It's so good to see you, my dear."

I pull back and he smiles, giving me a pat on the cheek.

"You've grown up so fast. You actually look like a woman now."

Yeah. Guess where my dad got his sense of humour from?

He just laughs at my affronted frown and looks past me to Edward, who still hasn't turned around. I can practically see him fighting the urge to hyperventilate.

"And you brought some company, I see."

I nod and give Edward a light – sort of – punch on the shoulder to get him to snap out of his self-induced panic attack.

"I must say, Bella, I was so happy to hear you got rid of that Alec fellow. I always did think he was a bit of a tool."

Edward, who had been in the process of rising from his chair, stumbles awkwardly at my grandfather's seamless integration of such youthful language.

"Yeah, Alec turned out to be a bit of a dick," I say. Edward's jaw drops as he stares at me.

I probably should have warned him that I have a strange relationship with my grandfather.

"Oh, grandpa – this is Edward, my boyfriend. Edward, this is my grandfather, Aro Swan."

"Nice to meet you, Edward," he says, shaking his hand. "I hope you're not as much of an idiot as Bella's previous boyfriend."

Edward swallows. He looks terrified and confused, the poor thing. Maybe it _was_ a bad idea to trick him into this.

"Uh, yeah, I hope so too, sir."

"You don't have to call me 'sir'," grandpa says with a smile. "Unless you really want to – I don't mind." He gives Edward a once-over, from the top of his messy hair to the scuffed toes of his Converse shoes. "I like your t-shirt. Very witty."

"Uh, thanks. I-... thanks."

"Well then," grandpa says, clapping his hands together once. "Shall we sit down? I'm famished."

Lunch turns out to be an interesting affair. While it takes him a while to get into it, Edward is eventually able to keep up with the conversations grandpa and I have. Not an easy feat, seeing as even my dad has problems with that sometimes.

Edward makes my grandfather laugh. A lot. He seems absolutely enthralled with my boyfriend, and as Edward discovers that Mr. Aro Swan, the powerful lawyer that makes lesser men piss themselves in the courtroom, is actually completely harmless, he's able to relax and even enjoy himself.

I like seeing Edward relaxed and enjoying himself. He's so much sexier now when he isn't giving himself an aneurism.

"So Edward, are you working at the moment?"

Grandpa has a real knack for asking people questions when their mouths are full of food. I think he's secretly giggling on the inside when he sees them frantically trying to chew and swallow. He probably gets off on watching people freak out just a little bit.

Edward freaks out a little bit and chews faster than I've ever seen him. He swallows what must have been an almost painfully large mouthful, judging by the slight grimace he makes.

"Uhm, yeah, I work at a drugstore."

"That's actually where we met," I say, cutting in. Grandpa turns his attention to me, and I smile as I tell him the story. "I went in to buy some lotion for a rash, but there were literally about twenty different lotions to choose from. Edward was nice enough to help me sort through the madness."

I don't think telling my grandfather that Edward also scratched my back, which caused me to emit sex noises like a porn star, would be a very good idea.

"Oh, that's nice," grandpa says. He turns to Edward with a small smirk growing on his lips. "Do you offer that kind of service to all your customers?"

Edward blushes a little bit, ducking his head as he grins. He reaches for my hand under the table, twining our fingers together.

"I might have been a little extra helpful with Bella."

He only looks into my eyes for two seconds, but it's enough to make me realise that he's thinking about the _extra_ help he gave me too. Probably the bit where I pushed my ass into his crotch.

I'm suddenly throbbing, and I force myself not to squirm against my seat.

"Pretty ladies are hard to resist," grandpa says, leaning back in his chair. He looks amused as his gaze shifts between us.

"It's even harder with the beautiful ones," Edward replies softly, staring at me in such a way that my heart squeezes; a small ball of exquisite pain presses against my sternum, like I can't actually hold my reaction inside my body and it's fighting to get out.

This is the best kind of feeling. It's the same one you get when you watch kittens being too adorable for words, or when Mr. Darcy goes 'You have bewitched me, heart, body and soul, and I love-, I love-... I love you.'

Edward is totally my Mr. Darcy, apart from the whole being-a-douche-and-hating-each-other-at-first-thing. And he's not rich.

Or English.

_God, Edward with an English accent...that's a lethal weapon right there._

I blush and some form of a girlish giggle leaves me. It could also have been a moan, I'm not sure.

Grandpa gives me an approving nod, looking impressed. "He's good."

_You're telling me_.

"I'm just being honest," Edward says shyly, looking down at the table.

"Alright, son, don't spread it on too thick," grandpa says, and I laugh.

"Thick like peanut butter."

_Thick... and long and hard and warm, with silky soft skin and... oh good god_.

I can't help it, I have to squirm. I can't think about The Hard One and not squirm. It's just not possible.

"Please let us not talk about peanut butter – that shit is vile."

Edward blinks a little. It might take him a while to get used to grandpa's mixed vocabulary.

"Peanut butter is amazing! What are you talking about, you old fart?" I say defensively.

"I simply don't understand the logic behind it. If I wanted peanuts, I'd eat peanuts. I wouldn't grind them up into a sticky mass and put it on my sandwiches."

"But then you would never experience the magnificence of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Or peanut butter and bananas. Or peanut butter and chocolate. Reese's peanut butter cups, grandpa! How dare you."

"I retain my opinion that peanuts are better enjoyed as _peanuts_."

"What do you think, Edward?" I ask, just for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

He squanders all my hopes and dreams by laughing, rather than freaking out over who to agree with.

"I don't really care. It all tastes like peanuts in the end, doesn't it?"

"There are times where diplomacy is highly appreciated, son," Grandpa says, leaning forward in his chair, all serious-looking, "but this is not one of those times. Cut the bull and stop giving us this drivel. Honesty is what builds integrity, and a young man without integrity is nothing more than a spoiled brat. So man-up!"

_Ooh, the scary lawyer is coming out._

I'm pretty sure I see a small smattering of sweat breaking out on Edward's top lip.

"Well, if... if I _had_ to choose, I'd- I'd say... uhm... peanut butter. Because it's more versatile. Like in... cooking and stuff."

His eyes flicker between me and grandpa. "But – honestly – I'd go with crunchy peanut butter, because I like seeing the vestige of where the peanut came from. And crunchy things are more fun to eat."

Grandpa and I share a look. Judging. Weighing him. Deciding on his fate.

Only, a lot less dramatic.

Finally, my old gramps nods slowly.

"You picked a good one, Bella Bee. A very good one."

I grin and nod in agreement while Edward flounders, not knowing what to do with himself in light of such high praise. He settles for dropping his napkin on the floor so he can hide under the table for a few seconds.

Grandpa pays the bill – after Edward and I pretend to offer to pay for ourselves – a little while later, having regretfully informed us that he needed to go do some of the lawyer stuff he actually came here to do. We say our goodbye's outside, standing beside the impressive car he drives. The only comment I can give on it is that it's black and shiny and I have no chance in hell of ever being able to afford something like it.

"It was nice to see you, grandpa," I say, stepping closer to hug him.

"You too, my dear. It's been too long," he says as he opens his arms for me. It's then, with his mouth close to my ear, that he whispers his final pearl of wisdom.

"He is a very good young man, Bella. I'm proud of you. Just don't fuck it up."

I snort in a horribly unattractive manner, and after a kiss on my cheek – and what feels like a few crisp dollar bills being shoved into my pocket – grandpa shakes Edward's hand firmly, before disappearing down the road in his black, shiny car.

For some reason, we just stand there following his car with our eyes until we can't see him anymore. Then a small sigh is emitted from my left. I turn my head to look at Edward.

"What?"

"No, nothing. It's just... weird."

I frown. "What's weird?"

His face is so serious as he moves to stand in front of me. I don't know if I should be worried.

"It's weird to finally know where you get this" – he knocks his knuckles against my head – "from. It's hereditary."

I smack his hand away. "Shut up."

"No, but seriously," he says, ignoring my eye-roll at his use of the word 'seriously', since there is clearly nothing serious about this discussion, "going from what I could hear of your phone-call with your dad, he's similar to you. So clearly, those have to be some really strong, dominant genes being passed down."

I try to push down the illogical panic I feel as the truth of his words infiltrate my brain. "So what are you saying? All my children will be equally insane?"

"Probably," he says, shrugging.

I'm now irrationally upset on top of being illogically panicked. "Well, clearly I should never breed then. Who wants a crazy wife and crazy kids too?"

I think my ovaries are crying. I'm dashing all their hopes about having Edward's babies. Oh god, I think I'm going to start crying too, based on the stupid lump stupidly forming in my stupid throat.

I'm so stupid and irrational and hormonal or something. And stupid.

Edward shakes his head and swoops in to kiss me. "You're not crazy," he says, raising his hand to cup my cheek. His voice drops to a low whisper. "You're perfect."

As his thumb slowly strokes my cheek, coaxing blood to the surface, he stares into my eyes with a soft vulnerability. Some might even call it slightly... suggestive.

Is he suggesting that he wants a crazy wife and equally crazy kids?

"I'm insane," I whisper back, drowning in his possibly-suggestive eyes.

I think I'm dying.

"Maybe. I happen to really like insane though. Especially your particular brand of crazy. It is, truly, pretty damn perfect to me."

He kisses me again, and I don't let him come up for air for what could be hours.

* * *

Based on the comments I got, a lot of you wanted to see how the date in the previous chapter ended – did Edward really eat cake off of Bella's boobs? It didn't fit into this chapter, but I'm thinking it might be an outtake or something? I'll let you know if I ever get around to writing it, I promise.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

Love,

/Vic


	15. The Waiting Part

I'm fully expecting David Attenborough to start talking about a new 'Up To Scratch' update like it's a rarely-seen animal on the verge of being extinct.

Rarely seen? Yes. Extinct? Not even close.

Hope you guys will enjoy the chapter.

The lovely bouncy 72, IcelandGirl812 and OLVamptramp have my undying gratitude for looking over this thing for me, as always. They're awesome beyond belief. As are you guys.

Seriously.

SM owns Twilight etc etc.

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Waiting Part**

EPOV

Bella sighs heavily beside me.

"I hate waiting. I seriously don't think there's anything more vile in the entire world."

She stares with a vacant expression towards the luggage carousel. We've been standing here for almost ten minutes, and our stuff has yet to arrive. This isn't kosher.

I rub her back comfortingly. "Well, at least we're passing the time. Emmett and Rose aren't supposed to land for another twenty minutes."

My brother and I had been lucky with the coordination of our flights; since we were landing in Virginia at roughly the same time, our father was giving us a rental car to use over the weekend. We don't really know why, but neither Em or I have protested at all. Under normal circumstances, our mother would have been here to pick us up. The rental car is saving us from that.

The rental car is a god.

Bella hums and impatiently shifts her weight. "Waiting still sucks."

"Have you noticed that _where_ you wait has a direct impact on how you perceive the experience of waiting? Like an airport, where the experience is fucking excruciating. Or outside the principal's office – also excruciating, but made worse by the fact that you're shitting your pants."

"Have you had a lot of experience with that?"

"What, being sent to the principal or shitting my pants?"

She looks at me with disturbed questions in her eyes. "The principal," she explains slowly.

"Nah, just a few times."

"Why, what did you do?"

"When I hit fifteen I started finding bras incredibly fascinating."

"Oh god, don't tell me you were one of _those_ guys."

"If by '_those_ guys' you mean guys who pulled at the backs of girls' bras, then yes, yes I was one of those guys."

"I hated those guys. Do you know how much that can hurt?"

"I do, yes, since I obviously wear a bra on a regular basis. I'm actually wearing one right now – push-up."

"I wouldn't put it past you, Suzy."

"Shut up," I say, poking her side.

"You have wonderful breasts, by the way."

"Thank you, I've been growing them for years."

We garner a weird look from the girl standing to our left. We should probably stop talking about me wearing a bra before she thinks I'm a transvestite.

With a slow groan, the carousel suddenly comes to life and everyone swarms in so tightly that they can barely move. Bella and I stay where we are, to wait for the crowd to thin out a little.

"I never understood why people do that," she says, gesturing with her chin. "It's not like it's a contest of who can get their bags first."

"To some people it might be. Or it might just be the knowledge that the quicker you get your bag, the quicker you can leave the damn airport."

"This is true. You have made a very intelligent observation, Edward."

"It's been known to happen."

She glances at me over her shoulder, a smile on her face that's so beautiful it hurts. I look down at her, cursing myself for being too scared to tell her how I really feel. I've been in love with her for close to two months now, and I still haven't managed to actually get those words out of my mouth.

I should be able to tell her. I should be able to just say 'I love you', because I do. I really do. I love her so much it scares me sometimes, but I can't seem to find the perfect moment.

I have become obsessed with this elusive 'perfect moment'. For some reason I've gotten it into my head that I'll just _know_ when the right moment comes along. I blame Hollywood, because that seems like the easiest and most plausible explanation for this insane idea. I have no idea if this is true or not – do real people actually just _know_? Like some kind of secret signal goes off, and tadaa! – you blurt it out?

Doesn't seem very scientific to me. More like an urban myth of a Dungeons-and-Dragon's geek losing his virginity.

I can feel my inner caveman shake his head at me. Despite his general lack of actual intelligence, even he knows I'm being stupid. I sigh and shift my hand to rest on Bella's waist, pulling her a little bit closer.

I _will_ find the right moment. Soon. I have to, even though I'm scared shitless at the thought of – for the first time ever – telling a girl I love her. I'm just going to assume this 'perfect moment' will be dumped into my life at some point. Preferably in the near future.

"Are those our bags?" Bella says, standing up on her tip-toes to see better. "Because if they are, we won! Also, how cool is it that they're coming out together?"

I squint, trying to see past the throng of people. "Very cool, and I do believe those are our bags. I don't think anyone else wrote out 'Ms. Awesome' with duct-tape on their luggage."

"Of course not – only people who are truly awesome would do that."

"Is that why you wrote 'Mr. Awesome' on mine?"

"Obviously, because you're awesome by association."

We walk forward, pressing our way between the other travellers.

"Oh, so I'm not awesome by my own merit?"

"No, you're awesome on your own. It's just that, by hanging out with me, your awesome-status is elevated to _Awesome_ – capital A."

"Ah, I see."

"It's a complicated process, I know."

I shake my head with a laugh, grabbing her bag as it slowly rolls past us. I can't believe hers was actually the first one out.

"I try not to understand the things you deem as a 'complicated process' – it's easier to just go along with it."

Her expression is serious as she nods. "You're a fast learner, Edward. It usually takes people ages to figure that out about me."

"I'm just observant," I say, looking into her eyes. "Especially when it comes to you."

She blinks a few times, taken aback. Then a slow blush colours her cheeks and her lips twitch into a smile as she looks away. I feel very pleased with myself, because that was actually quite smooth and suave and crap. Then she suddenly laughs and points down the carousel.

"I think you're _only_ observant when it comes to me – you just missed your own bag."

I turn around and yup, there's Mr. Awesome, slowly making his way around and away from us.

"Shit," I curse, awkwardly stumbling past the grumpy people as I hurry to catch up with it. I can hear Bella's laugh ringing out behind me, and I smile to myself.

««◊»»

I glance at my watch as Bella's fingers tap out what I think is the _Bonanza_ theme song against her thighs. Emmett and Rosalie should be coming out of 'Arrivals' any minute now. We were lucky enough to find a couple of vacant seats, and we parked ourselves here to await my brother.

I think Bella might be a bit nervous. She hasn't been freaking out as much as I'd thought she would, but I have caught her randomly staring into empty space more than usual these last few days. I reach over and grab her musical fingers, which have now moved on to the Simpson's theme.

"You okay?"

"Other than the fact that I kind of want to throw up a little, yeah, I'm fine."

"If you do throw up, aim for Emmett's shoes."

She digs her nails into my palm angrily.

"Shut up. I'm not worried about Emmett. Or well, I am, a little bit, but it's... it's mostly your..."

"... mom?" I fill in after she's struggled for a while.

She makes a face and nods. "I mean, I know you've said she probably won't like me, and I've sort of accepted that, but it's still difficult, you know? Not to sound full of myself or anything, but people usually like me – I'm not used to being disliked."

She glances at me from the corner of her eye and shrugs.

"I might be wrong. You never know. She might end up loving you, like everyone else."

_Oh, shit. I used the L-word. Did I just indirectly say that I love her? Did I? No... No, no I didn't. I didn't. I hope she didn't think I did, because while I _do_ love her, I don't want her to know that before I can say it, directly, to her face, in those three little words and, and... oh shit_.

Bella scoffs. Okay, yeah, she probably didn't read too much into that.

"I clearly remember Jasper saying it would be a miracle if she ended up liking me."

"Well, that was Jasper – what does he know?"

"He's met her! And she didn't like him. _Everyone_ likes Jasper!"

"I don't like Jasper."

"Yes, you do, he's your best friend. Don't make a joke out of my fears and insecurities."

"I'm not, I'm just trying to stop you from freaking out."

"I'm not _freaking out_, I'm just..." She sighs heavily, turning towards me in her seat. Our knees bump, and she wiggles her foot in between mine on the floor. "I'm just worried that, despite telling myself that I'm prepared for her not liking me, I'll still be really upset if she doesn't. And I don't want to be upset, because when I'm upset I tend to cry. A lot. Which is just hugely inconvenient when I want to be badass and defend myself and prove to your mom that she _can't_ upset me with her pettiness."

She stares at our entwined fingers the whole time, messing with my thumbnail.

I lean down, softly putting my forehead against hers. In the hum of hundreds of people talking, announcements in the speakers and luggage wheels rolling past, I speak quietly enough so that only she will hear.

"You are always badass. And amazing. Everyone will like you. My brother will love you, I know that for a fact. And if it turns out that my mother doesn't like you, for some insane reason, it's because she's blind and stubborn and crazy. But I want you to remember that _you_ are the one I'm in a relationship with, because of your personality, and how beautiful you are, inside and out. I don't want to change a single thing about you, so don't let my mother make you think you're not enough. You're absolutely perfect in my eyes, and that's what matters. I don't care what my mother thinks. She doesn't have any influence over me at all. You're _perfect_, Bella – believe me."

Bella's eyes are wide and suddenly very shiny. She smiles and squeezes my fingers.

"Oh my god," she whispers. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"It's the truth."

She bites her lip and sniffles, just a tiny little bit. "You... you really wouldn't change a single thing about me? Not even to get rid of my OCD about sorting M&M's?"

"No, not even that."

She laughs and tips her head to kiss me. Against my lips, she whispers, "You are the sweetest man I have ever met."

"And the most awesome one, right?"

"Yes, definitely. No one is awesomer than you."

"'Awesomer'? I'm so awesome you need to make up words to describe it?"

"Mmhm," she hums, nodding against my forehead.

"And of course, I become even awesomer because of my association with you, correct?"

"Yup, that seems about right."

"Well, seems like we're pretty fucking perfect together then."

"I'd say so. Lesser men and women would buckle under the pressure of the awesome we radiate."

"You know who's a lesser man than me?"

"Justin Bieber?"

"I said 'man', Bella."

"Ah, true. Okay, uhm... Andre The Giant?"

I blink. "First – thank you. Second – no, but close."

"Alright, who are you talking about then?"

"My brother, Emmett. He is lesser than me, so please make him buckle under your awesomeness. He'll like it, I promise."

The expression on her face suggests she's doubting my sincerity. She leans back and arches her eyebrow sceptically – further evidence that she doesn't exactly believe me.

I can't understand why.

"He will! Don't give me that face."

"You have a very strange relationship with your brother, don't you?"

"No. We're perfectly normal."

"By whose standards, the Addams Family's?"

"Okay, that was mean, and you're one to talk – I've met your grandfather, remember?"

"Yeah, but at least I acknowledge the fact that we're all insane. You're clearly in denial."

"I am not. You just wouldn't understand; you don't have a brother."

"Are you picking on me for being an only child, Masen?"

"No, you should consider yourself lucky for that."

"See, I think you're taking the wrong approach to this – I _wish_ I'd had a sibling. I might have turned out more normal and sane if my parents had had another kid to spread their craziness onto. Can you imagine what your life would have been like if your mom literally _only_ had you to take care of? I know she's blatant about you being her favourite, but Emmett's still her son and she loves him. But what if she'd been able to concentrate _all_ of that motherly love on you? You wouldn't have stood a chance."

I'm sure I look horrified. "Oh god, you're right. Emmett... Emmett saved my life."

Bella nods patiently, patting my hand.

"Dammit, I owe him my life now, don't I?"

"Well, if you want to pretend like you're in a Samurai movie, then sure."

"Samurais _are_ cool..."

"And hot. Probably. I like those swords."

"Really? Maybe I should dress up as one for Halloween."

"No, you can't – you're going to be Indiana Jones."

"I am?"

"Yeah. You could totally pull off the sweaty-dirty-treasure-hunting-whip-wielding-look."

"And who will you be?"

"The treasure," she says slyly, smirking at me.

I'm gripped by a sudden longing for Halloween.

"Gold bikini?"

"That's Star Wars, baby."

"Well, they both had Harrison Ford in them."

"This is true. I'll think about it."

"Good. Your boobs would look even more spectacular than usual encased in shiny gold fabric."

"Also true. But let's not forget that it's really fucking cold during Halloween, so one – other guys would see my spectacular boobs, and two – they'd also see my nipples."

I now have a sudden urge to protect her boobs at all costs. I glance down at them, just to ensure that they're safe inside her t-shirt and not on display.

"Okay, gold bikini is out. Unless you wear it under your other costume and then let me see it in bed."

"That might work."

"Awesome," I say, leaning in to kiss her. "But we need to stop talking about your boobs now, because I don't want Emmett to overhear it."

"Yeah, maybe not the greatest first impression I could make."

I consider telling her that it would actually make a great first impression, but since I want as little as possible of Emmett's attention focused on her chest, I stay silent.

After a little while, Bella gestures towards the 'Arrivals'.

"People are starting to come out now – wanna go stand closer so they can see us more easily?"

"Yeah, come on. Emmett's easy to spot in a crowd, but he's utterly useless at finding people himself."

My brother and Rosalie are almost the last ones to appear. When I raise my arm and wave, grabbing Rose's attention, Bella shifts nervously at my side. I put my hand on her back, rubbing small circles with my thumb.

Emmett's grin is as huge and friendly as it always is as they walk over. He grabs me in a huge hug, complete with a man-slap on the back, although in Emmett's case it's actually more like a bear-slap. I try not to wince.

"Suzy! It's been too long, man!"

Wow. Not even five seconds in and he's already insulted my manhood.

"Emmett," I say, patiently. He releases me, allowing Rose to step in and greet me in a similar, if less slap-happy, way.

Then they turn and stare at Bella. She shifts uncomfortably.

Emmett looks her up and down in amused disbelief.

"But she's tiny!" he exclaims, pointing. I slap his hand away.

"Emmett, she's not a toy!"

"But look at her, she barely reaches your chin, man. I wouldn't have pegged you for a guy who digs short chicks."

"_Emmett_!" both Rosalie and I hiss. I'm used to him acting like this, but I'd hoped he would at least pretend to be a civil human being for a few minutes after first meeting Bella. Clearly, I should have known better.

Bella wrinkles her nose and scrutinises my brother right back. "Are you a real person?"

Emmett frowns, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was just under the general impression that humans didn't come in Yeti-size."

"I'm awesome-sized."

Bella quirks her head to the side. "No... no, I don't think that's it."

"'Course it is."

"No, awesome-sized people have longer fingers."

We all look down at his fingers. Now that she mentions it, his are rather stubby in relation to his actual size.

"_Damn_... touché, short-stuff. Way to shoot an arrow right through my tiny-fingers-complex."

"Well, I wouldn't call them tiny – those things look like sausages. Just short ones."

Emmett brings both his hands up to his face, staring at his fingers. Rosalie blinks a few times and then looks at Bella.

"I like you," she says. "I'm Rosalie, and you must be Bella. You'll fit right in."

"Well, I _am_ tiny – I fit into almost anything. Convenient for travelling and stuff. Edward actually brought me here in his suitcase."

Rosalie gives out a surprised little chuckle, looking Bella over once again. She looks impressed, and her eyes flicker over to me.

"I _really_ like her. Your mom is going to shit a brick, I can tell."

"Sounds painful," Bella says.

"Yeah, well, trust me – you'll kinda wish it on her," Rose says, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. Emmett stops obsessing over his stumpy fingers just so he can nod in agreement.

"Is she really that bad?" Bella says before pointing her thumb at me. "I was sort of hoping that he's just been exaggerating."

Rose and Emmett both laugh.

"Oh, you poor little thing," my brother says, patting her on the head in a gesture way too chummy for someone he only just met a minute ago. "Prepare yourself."

««◊»»

"So, uh... how far away are we now? Because I need to like, mentally prepare myself for this," Bella says from the backseat. I glance at her in the rear view mirror and smile.

"Just about ten minutes. I think we should all take a moment to gather our strength and whatever small scraps of sanity we still have left – we'll need every single little ounce of it."

"Okay, everybody – deep breath in through your _noooooose_..." Emmett says in a stupid yoga-instructor voice, closing his eyes and holding his hands up to his chest, palm to palm. He sucks air down like a vacuum cleaner – I can actually see his cheeks trembling from the strain. "And _ooouuut_ through your mouth..."

I roll my eyes when both Rose and Bella follow suit.

"Edward, come on – calming exercises. You know you'll need them," Rose says from the backseat.

"I'm driving. Do you want me to crash?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I just got my nails done."

"I'll try my best not to cause a horrible car accident then."

"Okay, Suzy doesn't want to play – the rest of us... in through your _noooooose_..."

They continue with their breathing until we arrive on mom and dad's street. They might be all relaxed and calm and sane, but I'm the opposite after having to sit through what sounded like a Lamaze class for idiots. I'm also a little nervous now, because even though I've told Bella that my parents aren't exactly struggling to pay their bills, I may not have been completely honest with her. The way she's gone silent as she stares out the window makes me think she's starting to suspect something.

I need to talk to her. I don't want her to have the wrong idea about my parents – god knows they'll make quite the impression on her by just being themselves, so there's no need to add to the idiocy.

The truth is that the only reason they live here, in this fancy neighbourhood with expensive cars lining every driveway and swimming pools overtaking every backyard, is because my mom sees it like a trophy, not because they really belong. Them buying this house had more to do with the huge inheritance my dad got when grandpa passed away than their own accomplishments.

I'd liked it better when we lived in a more modest home, closer to town and all my friends. Mom and dad bought this place when I was sixteen, and it had only enhanced my eagerness to move away for college to a ridiculously intense level.

My mom had wanted to put on a facade by buying this place, and that facade had both me and Emmett moving clear across the damn country to get away. I can only hope Bella knows me well enough by now to realise that this isn't me, all this fancy stuff. I'd rather have my apartment back in Seattle with the questionable smell coming from Jasper's room than all of this.

I park the car next to Mom's in their driveway, and we all sit in silence for a few seconds.

"Are you guys ready for this?" I ask, unbuckling myself with an unsteady hand. I feel like I'm preparing to go into battle.

Or at least what I imagine it feels like to prepare to go into battle. Somehow, I don't think innumerable games of 'Call of Duty' actually count as experience with warfare.

"No," they all answer in harmony, just as the front door swings open.

_Here we go_.

* * *

The next chapter is soon to follow, I promise. I've already started writing it and everything. I figured it would be more fun to see the first meeting with Mom through Bella's eyes, yes?

In other news, I wrote a little o/s called 'Drowned Out' for the **Fic A Pic **contest, hosted by **Souplover9**,** Spanglemaker9 **and** TallulahBelle**. Voting is open for that now, closing on the 22nd. There are a bunch of great entries, so I'd definitely recommend giving them a read: **http:/ / www. fanfiction .net/ ~ficapiccontest**

This o/s popped a cherry of mine. My vampire cherry. I've finally written something that isn't All Human, and it was so much fun. If you do decide to give it a read, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Anyway, again – chapter 16 should be up soon (and by soon, I mean that it won't take a month, lol). See you laterz, you sexy ladies (and hunky guys).

/Vic


	16. The Mother Load

What? A new chapter and it's barely been a week since the last one? David Attenborough is flabbergasted by this surprising development.

Anyway, it's _finally_ time to meet Edward's mom. I hope she won't disappoint.

As always, massive thanks to bouncy 72, IcelandGirl812 and OLVamptramp for their help in making this less sucky.

Hope you guys will enjoy it.

SM owns all things Twilight, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Mother Load **

BPOV

_Oh god, here we go._

My stomach feels like it's about to commit mutiny. Or jump ship, abandoning me altogether. It's about to do something nautical anyway, because a violent surge of sea-sickness – something I thought was impossible when you're on land, unless you're having hot monkey-sex on a waterbed – slams into me when the front door opens.

Edward's mom.

I feel Rosalie giving me a sympathetic pat on my thigh before she opens her door to step out. I take a deep breath, fighting down the vomit, and follow suit.

Mrs. Masen hurries down the porch steps, arms already outstretched towards Edward when I step up beside him. She's quite attractive for a woman her age, but she seems terribly overdressed for it being a Thursday afternoon. I don't know squat about fashion, but even I can tell that her dress probably cost more than I spend on groceries every month.

"Oh, my little Edward!"

Well, wow. She actually sounds like she's about to cry.

"Hey, mom," Edward mutters, much less enthusiastically, as she reaches him. A happy little sob leaves her as she latches on to him, practically crushing him in a hug. He has to bend down awkwardly to accommodate her death-grip, and I kind of want to laugh because he looks hilarious.

I shouldn't laugh though – the poor guy is being mauled by his mother. Surely that's hard enough without your girlfriend laughing obnoxiously in the background.

For just a moment, I watch the two of them together. Whatever Mrs. Masen turns out to be like, right now I can only judge her on what's in front of me. Without personally knowing anything about her, all I can see is a mother who loves her son. Edward may look awkward and dorky as he hugs her back, but for an outsider to just see them like this, you wouldn't know that Mrs. Masen is supposedly a crazy woman.

It must be hard for her, to have both her sons living on the other side of the country where she can't see them as often as she'd probably like. My feelings about it might change, depending on how she really treats me, but just for this short little moment, I sympathise with her.

"Oh, my baby boy! Mommy's missed you so much," she says, and my sympathy abruptly goes down a couple of notches.

_Really_?

I can't help but throw a sideways glance at Rosalie, just in time to see her roll her eyes. Clearly I'm not the only one judging Mrs. Masen on the way she talks to her adult son.

Then things start getting a little weird. Edward is clearly trying to free himself from the hug, but Mrs. Masen doesn't appear to care. She clings to him tenaciously, actually tightening her grip the more he tries to pull away. She's like a Chinese Finger-trap.

She holds on.

And on.

And on.

Oh, and hey – she holds on.

The rest of us start shifting uncomfortably. The moment that was actually quite sweet is now quickly deteriorating into weirdness – this hug is way too long. Like... _way_ too long.

_Awk-ward..._

"Okay, uh... mom, can you-...? Mom? Would you-... okay, Mom, that's fine, that's... Mom, can you please- okay, my back hurts. Let go, Mom. Mom, let go-... yes, thank you..."

"Oh, I'm just so happy to see you, Edward," she says as he literally pulls her arms away and takes a step back. I don't think she's actually even looked at anyone other than Edward yet.

_This is so weird_.

"Yeah, Mom, I-... yeah. Hi. Hey, Emmett's here, go... Emmett, there," Edward says, clearly uncomfortable with her attention. He physically turns his mother in Emmett's direction, giving her a little push.

"Oh, Emmett!" she exclaims, grabbing him in a similar embrace. I'm starting to wonder if maybe she's on some kind of heavy medication.

The hug with her oldest son doesn't last even half as long as the one with Edward, but Emmett doesn't look anything but relieved. Mrs. Masen gives him a fond once-over.

"I swear, Emmett, every time I see you, you've gotten bigger," she says wistfully. I find this odd, since I can't really imagine Emmett actually becoming bigger than he already is. What's he going to be the next time she sees him? A tree? Maybe he does a lot of weight-training or something, building muscles and whatnot.

Then Mrs. Masen turns to Rosalie, and what she _actually_ meant becomes abundantly clear.

"What are you feeding him, Rosalie? I know you take very good care of _yourself_, but perhaps you should start putting some of that energy towards helping others," she says, finishing with a pleasant little laugh.

Pleasant. And she's smiling. Patting her on the arm.

Oh, good god. She thinks she's being nice. And polite, even though she's apparently implying that Rosalie is a selfish person who only cares about herself and lets Emmett get fat.

_Holy crap_. _She's the worst kind of Rude there is – the Ignorant Rude_.

She probably thinks she's fooling us all into thinking she's in fact really nice, when in reality, we're all completely floored by how impolite she's being. This will most likely not end well for me.

As I watch Rosalie take in Mrs. Masen's comment, I decide that she is the personification of 'I'm rubber, you're glue', only hotter and more drop-dead gorgeous.

And better at lacing her words with sexual innuendoes.

"Oh, don't worry, Elizabeth – I make sure _all_ of Emmett's needs are met on a daily basis. We help each other a lot, working out together and things like that. Doing a lot of physical activities, you know. And Emmett's the one who usually feeds me, believe it or not. He's very adamant about my protein intake."

_Holy shit_. _She just told her boyfriend's mother she swallows his man juice. _

"Really?" Mrs. Masen says, turning to look at Emmett in surprise. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, he's very good with his _cook_ing," Rosalie assures her, winking at me when she spots my awestruck expression.

"Well, that's certainly a surprise!" Mrs. Masen says, while Emmett visibly tries to restrain the urge to gloat about his mad 'cooking' skills. "Maybe you should make dinner for us tonight, honey."

_Oh god, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh..._

Then I see Edward's face, twisted into a mask of complete horror and disgust, and a small noise escapes me. It's like a cross between a snort, the squeak of a stepped-on hamster and the rumbling wheeze my old truck used to emit when I had the audacity to turn the ignition. I just barely manage to resist slapping a hand over my mouth.

Obviously, I attract some attention, and for the first time since we arrived, Mrs. Masen actually looks at me. She looks very surprised to see me here, like she'd forgotten Edward was bringing his girlfriend back home. It doesn't look like she thinks this is a happy surprise.

I don't think my vocal skills have impressed her very much.

Edward, now wearing a very contradictive facial expression of horror, disgust, amusement and apprehension, steps up beside me and turns to his mother.

"Mom, I'd like you to meet Bella Swan."

Mrs. Masen looks me slowly up and down. Her scrutiny seems to take forever. Her critical gaze lingers noticeably on Edward's arm around my back, his hand resting on the curve of my waist. When her eyes meet mine again, it's clear that she's found me lacking.

_Well, at least I was prepared for it_.

The look in her eyes vanishes after just a second, replaced by the Ignorant Rude's classic fake-joy.

"_Bella_ _Swan_? What an... interesting name. Your parents' must have had very high expectations of your beauty." Her little laugh is added on as an afterthought.

I can't decide if she's insulting me, my parents or both.

_Swan, I think she just implied that your name doesn't fit your face – she's insulting you_.

I'm feeling a lot of things right now - anger, hurt, embarrassment and just pure indignation being the most prominent, but I take heart from seeing Rosalie and Emmett simultaneously rolling their eyes behind Mrs. Masen's back.

A part of me knows I should crumble into an insecure pile of Bella, right there in her fancy driveway, but that part is completely squished within seconds. Anger floods me, burning hotly through my veins, and demolishing any sense of sadness over her cutting remark. When Rosalie flips her off behind her back, my anger is fuelled by the justification and encouragement.

However, since I'm always striving towards playing it cool and being awesome, I just copy her little laugh and shake my head, all the while burning up inside with the flames of my pissed-off rage.

"I think my mom was just being optimistic. I mean, I know you shouldn't really say stuff like this, but my dad is _hot_ – less so now that he's old, but back in the day? Mom had to beat all the girls off with a stick. So, you know, she figured I had at least a fifty percent chance of growing up all foxy and stuff. It was a bit touch-and-go in my teenage years, not gonna lie, but once I got over that whole super-awkward-pimple-face stage, I think I turned out pretty decent."

Mrs. Masen blinks at me, the fake smile she pastes on her face making me giggle inside.

Giggles of pure burning rage, that is.

Rose gives me a thumbs-up during the tense silence that follows.

"Well, that's... yes, quite. Nice to meet you, Bella."

"You too, Mrs. Masen."

She smiles a tad bit wider, but doesn't tell me to call her by her first name. I'm thinking I'll be doing that anyway, just to piss her off.

"Well then, let's get you all settled. Your rooms are ready for you. Boys, help the girls with their luggage – I did raise you to be gentlemen, no matter who your actions are for."

Her smile at me and Rose is indulgent, like she was doing us a favour. I'm pretty sure she just inferred that we're not really worthy of being helped by gentlemen though, so I'm thinking she's a bit misinformed about the definition of 'favour'.

Although, she probably wouldn't be so quick to call Edward a gentleman if she knew all about his habit of stealing clothes from me and refusing to give them back until after we've had sex.

The fact that I do the same thing to his clothes is really beside the point.

Mrs. Masen leads the way into the fancy, huge-ass house – that Edward _somehow_ neglected to tell me about – and I unabashedly stare at everything. It's so... fancy.

And huge.

I'm immediately uncomfortable the second we step inside. This doesn't feel like a home. It feels like a huge-ass, fancy house, yes, but a home? Not really.

All I can see in the foyer are artsy photographs and little tables with extravagant flower arrangements. There are no shoes lying around, no bags or coats. There are no family pictures, or keys or paper clips or an errant sock. Everything is arranged _just so_, making it look perfectly sterile.

No, this isn't a home. This is a trophy.

"I'm sorry," Edward whispers in my ear. I turn to look at him, and he looks both angry and apologetic. "I thought she'd at least wait a couple of hours before... you know."

"It's fine," I whisper back, shaking my head. "We can talk later."

He throws a quick glance at Mrs. Masen, who's leading the way towards the stairs, and gives me a little nod.

"So, Edward and Emmett, your rooms should be just as you left them; I've just put new sheets on your beds and some fresh towels in the bathrooms. Bella, I prepared the guest room for you down here on the first floor – it's just down the hall-"

"What?" Edward interrupts her as we all come to a sudden halt. We stare at her as she turns back to look at us inquisitively.

"What's the matter, dear?"

"What do you mean, you prepared the guest room?"

She furrows her forehead and laughs, as if Edward's being a little dense. Her laugh does not instil a warm and fuzzy feeling within in – quite the opposite, really.

"For Bella. The girl needs a place to sleep, Edward."

Edward's the one who frowns now. "I know that, and she has one – my room. I told you this when I called."

"I know you did, but I think she'll be more comfortable in the guest room."

_Uh... no? I'll be more comfortable in Edward's room, where I can wake up to his morning wood poking me in the back._

"What? Mom, that doesn't even make sense. Bella's not staying in the guest room."

Mrs. Masen exhales quickly – it's not quite a huff, but it's pretty damn close.

"Edward, please, don't be so difficult about this. We have to be reasonable – what will the neighbours think?"

I'm pretty sure we all raise our eyebrows sceptically in unison, like a non-verbal choir.

"The neighbours? What do they have to do with anything?"

"You know we live right next door to the Webbers – if they knew Bella was staying in your room... Surely you don't want them to think so little of her?"

"_Mom_!" Edward snaps, anger filling his voice. She looks surprised that he'd take that tone with her.

Personally? I just want to jump him in gratitude. We can deny it all we want, but every girl wants a shiny-armoured knight to save her every once in a while.

"The Webbers won't care where my girlfriend sleeps! In fact, I'm pretty sure the only way they _would_ care is if she _didn't_ sleep in my room, because that would be _weird_. Fine if we were like seventeen years old, but we're not. Whatever you're doing, just stop it."

"Edward..." she says, looking all kinds of hurt and devastated. Is it wrong for me to take some joy out of that? "I'm not doing anything, I'm just-"

"Stop it. The guest room? Really? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. If you're so concerned about what the Webbers will think, why can Rose sleep in Emmett's room?"

"Well, they've been together for several years now. And Rosalie was in the guest room the first time she came to visit."

I look over at Rose, and wow, I think she might still be a little bitter about that, given the way her mouth is pursing and her ridiculously pretty nostrils are flaring.

Edward rolls his eyes. "The first time Rose came to visit, she was nineteen. Of course you put her in the guest room. But Mom, no. If Bella's staying in the guest room, I'm sleeping in there with her. And since I'd much rather prefer my own bed, I'm taking her to my room, and the Webbers can think whatever the hell they want."

With that, he grabs our bags more securely in his hands, and indicates towards the stairs with his head. Mrs. Masen stares at us as we walk past, a few halting sounds of protest leaving her gaping lips.

I just smile as we go by. This woman has clearly lost her marbles, and given the way she's treated me in the last five minutes, I see no reason whatsoever why I shouldn't be allowed to goad her a little.

Edward stomps forcefully up the stairs, and I almost have to run to keep up with him. He's muttering things to himself, and I catch a quick glimpse of his profile when he turns to the left at the top of the stairs; his jaw is clenching angrily, and while I know it's probably the wrong reaction to have, all I can think about now is how much I want to lick his jaw.

It's his fault for clenching it and making it stand out like that, all sharp and defined and manly and hot. I find it endlessly fascinating. It just captures my undivided attention, much like shiny things, or chocolate, or his boner.

He continues up yet another flight of stairs, while Emmett and Rose break off from us on the second floor.

"Hey, Bella, come downstairs when you're done up there – we'll show you around and stuff," Rose says quickly, watching me struggle to keep up with Edward. She lowers her voice. "And give you a few tips on how to handle Mrs. Cockblocker down there."

I nod gratefully before trying my hardest not to trip over my own feet. Edward's already up on the third floor, waiting for me. How is he so fast? He's carrying two bags! All I'm carrying in the way of bags are my boobs, and they're not even that big.

"Come on, my room's down here," he says, turning to the right and walking past two doors before stopping. Just like the rest of the house – that I've seen so far anyway – the hallway is sterile and decorated as if it's being photographed for one of those interior design magazines. How can Mrs. Masen live like this?

Edward opens his door with a bit more force than is perhaps necessary, and lugs our bags inside. I follow him and breathe a sigh of relief when I take in his room.

You can tell a teenage boy used to live in here, which is exactly why I'm immediately dubbing it my favourite room in the house. The walls are blue, but mostly covered in various posters. His desk is cluttered, his bookshelf's a mess, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was an abandoned stash of porn hidden away somewhere.

I close the door behind me, and Edward immediately starts stalking back and forth across the floor. He looks a little insane, clutching his hair and glaring at everything. It's sad how much I still want to lick his jaw.

"I can't _believe_ her!" he hisses. "What the fuck kind of lame excuse was that? _The neighbours_? Who the hell cares what they think! As if they'd even _know_ anything about where you are or aren't sleeping. It's not like they're going to come in here and investigate! Jesus fucking-..." He ends his little rant with an indignant growly huff.

He's very cute when he gets angry. I don't dare tell him that, though, despite the fact that it would probably just make him angrier and therefore cuter. I walk up to him and plant myself in his path, forcing him to stop.

He looks down at me for a few seconds, and I reach up to pull his hands from his hair. The anger slowly fades from his eyes, only to be replaced by something very sad and defeated. He exhales slowly and his shoulders sink, the tension draining from his body.

I weave my fingers with his, letting our hands drop down between us. He grasps them tightly, pulling me a little closer.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't... I really didn't think she'd act like this." He looks away for a few seconds, his eyes landing on the closed door. "At least I'd hoped she wouldn't."

"Hey," I say softly, squeezing his hands to bring his attention back to me. "It's okay-"

"No, it's not," he interrupts me. "You shouldn't have to be treated this way."

"Edward, I'm _fine_. Yeah, she's being super rude, but we knew that already, right? It's not like I'm surprised by it."

_Oops, now he looks a little angry again_.

"It doesn't matter if we were expecting it or not – you shouldn't have to be treated that way," he repeats, his eyebrows hunching down. "I'm going to talk to her, tell her to fucking... back off. I can't believe she tried to put you in the guest room. And not even the nice one."

"You have more than one guest room?"

He looks confused by the direction my mind has gone. "Yeah, there are actually three."

"You have _three?_ Edward!"

I let go of his hand, slapping his chest.

"Ow! What?" he says indignantly, rubbing at what I hope is a now a sore spot.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about all of this!" I wave my hand around, indicating the house and the neighbourhood. He has the decency to look a little ashamed.

"I didn't think it was that big a deal."

"No, it's not. Not really, but you should have told me! When you said you lived in a 'nice area,' I was thinking some suburban neighbourhood. Like Desperate Housewives, only without the suicides, murders and cheaters."

He looks a bit more ashamed.

"Well, I-... it's not exactly an easy thing to mention, you know. What was I supposed to say? 'Oh hey, Bella, just so you know – my parents are loaded and they live in a house so huge it could fit my apartment inside it five times over'? Not exactly something you casually slip into a conversation."

"I know that. I just meant that a bit more of a warning would have been nice. It's a little intimidating, you know?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "You have nothing to be intimidated about."

I roll my eyes, but he doesn't like that. He lets go of my other hand so he can grab my face.

"No, I mean it," he says seriously. "We're only visiting for a few days. I hate it here. You know all of this isn't me, that I don't belong here, in this kind of place. This has nothing to do with you and me, with our relationship. And that's what matters. I'll still be the same Edward I've always been when we leave, and you'll still be the-... you'll still be my Bella."

_My Bella_. I think I just died. Did I die? Does girl goo qualify as a living organism?

"And then it won't matter what kind of house my parents live in, or what they do for a living, because we'll still be us. So no, you don't have to be intimidated by anything, because it doesn't concern us at all."

"Okay," I breathe, not entirely sure what I'm agreeing to, but oh well.

"Okay." He kisses me quickly, and I'm sure he meant it to just be a nice little peck, but feeling his life-giving lips on mine (life-giving because they resuscitate me from girl-goo back into a living girl, lady-parts all aquiver) reminds me of how much I wanted to jump his bones and lick his jaw earlier. I whine in protest when he pulls away, following him up on my tip-toes.

He snorts a little at me, but apparently takes the hint; his mouth is back on mine instantly and all is well with the world.

Even after so many months of kissing him, it's still so exciting to feel him this close to me. I have never been more aware of another person's every single movement before. I can feel all the places where his body touches mine as if they're lit up from within – kind of like how plants start glowing when stepped on in _Avatar_.

I get extra glowy when Edward starts using his tongue to do naughty, naughty things to my mouth. And as always when he does naughty, naughty things to my mouth, I get completely carried away.

I moan against his lips and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I may or may not also wind a leg around his thigh, but that's a matter of perception.

His hands move from my face, crossing tightly over my back and pushing our chests together urgently. I love when he gets into it so quickly. I love his mouth. And his tongue. I love his taste and smell, and the way he feels when he pulls me so close there isn't any space between us. I just love him, period.

I should tell him that. I _need_ to tell him that, soon, even though my mind is screaming at me to wait until he tells me first. If he ever does. I hope he does, because it would be equal parts awkward and heartbreaking if he didn't. But for two months now, I've known that I love him, and I'm getting tired of holding the words back. I'm not that much of a scared loser that I can't tell someone I love then. Even though I've never actually really done that before. Like, ever.

I told my stuffed bear once when I was seven, but I don't think that counts. So I'm going to tell him. Soon. Like... soon.

Or the next time I've had some wine. That could work. And seeing as how Mrs. Masen is most likely going to continue treating me the way she has so far, I'll probably need quite a lot of wine to get me through this visit. I'll need to ask Rose how she copes with it, after I'm done ravishing Edward.

I wonder what the best tactic is to dealing with Mrs. Masen. Should I act like what she's saying doesn't bother me? Should I act like it does? Should I tell her off? I might, if she pushes me far enough. Should I push _her_? Provoke her a little?

_Oh_, provoking... that could be fun. And I think I know just the way to do it.

I break away from Edward's lips breathlessly, watching as his eyes slowly flutter open, unfocused and glassy.

"Would it be completely out of line to give you sex hair right now?"

He looks a little confused, as if he suddenly can't understand words anymore.

"I mean, mess up your hair while making out, and then you keep it that way. So your mom will see."

"My mom?"

"Yeah, so she'll see your messy hair. Or well, your messi_er_ hair. Hair that will be messier after having spent time with me, alone, in your bedroom."

He needs time to think about this, I can tell. Especially after he slides his hands down to my ass – his eyes get that far-away look in them for a few seconds.

"Edward, focus. Are you or are you not willing to go downstairs in a little while with sex hair, in an effort to push your mom's buttons?"

"Uh..." He blinks a few times, staring at my lips. "Yeah, sure. You'll know you've succeeded if her left eye starts twitching a little."

"Really?" I'm intrigued by this. Yes, very intrigued, indeed... I think Operation Eye Twitch just commenced.

"Yeah. Now stop talking and mess up my hair, woman."

"Sir, yes, sir...!"

I take my Operations _very_ seriously.

* * *

So yeah, there you have it – a first glimpse of Mrs. Masen. I wonder how kindly she'll take to Operation Eye Twitch.

Oh and hey, huge thanks to anyone who voted for my o/s in the **Fic A Pic** contest – it actually won 2nd place in the public vote, as well as Judge's Choice, which was a huge surprise. If anyone here had a hand in that: sincerely, thank you so much.

Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading – I really hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Until next time,

/Vic


	17. The Fox and The Sweater Vest

I seriously don't understand why/how you guys put up with me. When I realised it had been more than a month since I last updated this story, my jaw dropped and I asked myself: 'How can you still have people who read this and actually care?'

The obvious answer is because you guys are awesome.

Recap of the previous chapter, should you need it: Bella finally got to meet the Momster, which didn't pan out very well. She wanted to put Bella in the guest bedroom, but Edward was having none of that. After listening to him rant a bit, Bella decides to entertain herself with Operation Eye-Twitch. Her first attempt to annoy Mrs. Masen: give her innocent baby boy decidedly non-innocent sex-hair.

Bouncy 72, IcelandGirl812 and OLVamptramp are lovely, amazing and wonderful and my words would be a hell of a lot more awkward without them. Thank you, ladies.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Fox and The Sweater Vest **

BPOV

"Whoa. What the hell have you guys been doing up there?"

Rosalie and Emmett stare at us, confusion and a slight twist of awe clear on their faces.

I glance up at Edward. He looks a little stoned.

"Nothing."

_Good idea, Swan. Give them the most suspicious answer possible_.

"Uh-huh." Rosalie squints and leans closer. "Is that a hickey?"

In an even more suspicious way, Edward and I simultaneously slap our hands to our necks in panic.

"What?"

"No!"

_Wait, shit, who was she talking to?_

Emmett laughs obnoxiously as we both blush and quickly lower our hands. My face feels like it's on fire. Edward and I got completely carried away up in his bedroom earlier, and my horny flush hasn't really subsided yet; the blush of embarrassment is just making it worse.

I want a nice rosy glow on my cheeks when Mrs. Masen sees me; what I don't want is to look like a five-year-old who got a hold of some make-up and painted her whole face with rouge and bright-red lipstick.

"_What_ have you guys been _doing_?" Rosalie repeats, laughing with Emmett. She crosses her arms and moves subtly to block us from our only escape route.

"Well, we were just..."

"... unpacking."

"Unpacking what, your dick?"

Faster than I would have thought possible, Edward attacks and punches his brother on the arm.

"Shut up, Emmett!"

Emmett doesn't even seem to notice.

"Damn, Suzy, I've been giving you way too much credit. That must have been the quickest quickie in the history of quick quickies."

"Say that five times fast," I dare him, in an effort to steer the conversation elsewhere.

It doesn't.

"You fucking assho-"

The rest of Edward's hissed insult disappears as he tackles his brother, pushing them both a few feet down the hallway. Emmett grunts loudly as Edward's shoulder smashes into his stomach.

All we can hear is the thump of fists on flesh and other manly sounds that usually accompany wrestling and, incidentally, gay sex.

_Yeah, probably don't say that out loud, Swan._

Rosalie stares at them over her shoulder for a few seconds. I can't tell who's winning because they seem to be locked in some kind of awkward stalemate, both grunting, pulling and pushing to no effect.

I feel seriously proud of Edward for managing to hold his own against his brother though, since Emmett is, by all accounts, about the size of a small boulder.

"Seriously, what were you two doing?" Rosalie says, turning back to me. The scuffle continues on behind her.

I decide I can trust Rosalie not to laugh at me. I'll probably need her as my ally if I'm going to win this battle against Mrs. Masen, and letting her in on Operation Eye-Twitch is a small but necessary first step.

I'm not sure if strategy is one of my strong-points, but I can beat almost anyone at a game of Monopoly, so I must be doing something right.

"Well. Basically, we, uh... we want to annoy Mrs. Masen... as much as possible. Or well, _I_ do anyway, and Edward's either in agreement with me or just playing along for the sake of indulging my insanity."

"Either one sounds like something he would do," she says, just as Edward lets out a strangled but somehow still high-pitched grunt. Emmett slams into the wall, dragging Edward along with him.

"Also, I like this plan. Do share," Rosalie continues, as if two full-grown men aren't threatening to tear down the house behind her.

I blink, my gaze flickering back and forth between her and the guys, who are slowly sinking to the floor as they both struggle to get the upper-hand.

"W-well... I, uh... I'm sorry, but do they do this a lot?"

"Yeah," she says with a shrug.

"Oh. Well, alright. Uhm... Well, I haven't really put much thought into the plan yet, but so far we're calling it Operation Eye-Twitch and the first attempt was giving Edward sex-hair."

We both turn to look at Edward now; his face is smushed between Emmett's massive arm and his ribs, and his hair is an even bigger mess than when we left his room.

"And now he's ruining all my hard work and dedication. Honestly, he can be so selfish sometimes."

"Yeah, Emmett's sort of screwing up your plan. He doesn't have sex-hair anymore. Elizabeth has seen these two fighting more times than I can count. She'll recognise the effects it has on Edward's hair immediately."

I frown. "So, basically, my brilliant plan is shattered?"

"You could always do it again at some later point. Or like, actually have sex and then show up for dinner or something." She pauses and scrutinises me. "Because you didn't have sex now, did you? You guys were barely up there for ten minutes."

The implied stab at Edward's skills in the bed is clear in her tone. If I'd known her longer, I probably would have flipped her off.

"No, we didn't have sex."

"Well, good. I'd hate to think of Edward as being a premature ej-"

I stop her right there. "He's not. Trust me."

She shrugs again and smiles. "Good for you. Now, let's break these two morons up and take you on a tour of the house, shall we?"

««◊»»

It's easy to see that Mrs. Masen wants to impress people. Be it with the shiny marble countertops and high-tech utilities in the kitchen, or the sofas that scream 'I AM EXPENSIVE', she just really wants people to be _impressed_.

I am impressed... by how _lame_ it is.

Everything is just a little bit too much, just a little bit too extravagant.

Just a little bit too _trying-too-hard_.

I do like their backyard, though. Maybe Mrs. Masen isn't very interested in plants and actual living things, because somehow I can't really see her touch out here. So far, it's been the only place – apart from Edward's room – where I've actually felt comfortable since we got here.

A huge wooden deck spreads out from the back of the house, offering a nice place for lazing out in the sun during the summer. Edward tells me, with a fond smile, that he and Emmett helped his dad build this thing – it was a weekend-project for them, a father-sons bonding thing.

I like the deck even more now.

"So which parts did you build?" I ask, walking across it.

It's arranged in different levels, creating clear sections for everything. A huge table stands off to the side on a raised bit, with a humongous grill – definitely Mrs. Masen's choice – facing the garden on a platform. On the other side, mirroring the eating-area, are a few chaises and a built-in bar on yet another platform. In between them is a simple, ground-level walkway, leading softly into the well-kept lawn.

I just know I'll be spending a lot of time out here. Mostly because it's not as suffocating as the inside of the house, but also because the bar is freaking _stocked full_. Something tells me I might need the liquor.

Edward looks bashful as he shades his eyes against the sun. "Well, we all did a little bit of everything..."

I roll my eyes and laugh. "So point out one thing _you_ did."

He glances over to where Emmett and Rosalie are walking across the lawn before coming over to me. He points at the railing in front of me.

"I did this side."

It's now my favourite side.

I walk up to it and gently run my hands along the smooth wood on top. "Hey, look, it's boob-level!"

Edward laughs and bumps my shoulder with his own. "I don't get how you do that."

"Do what?" Oh no, what did I do now? He's freaking me out. What did I do? Something weird? I always do something weird! Maybe he's tired of it now. I should be more normal, even though I think that's actually physically impossible for me.

"You always..." _Do weird stuff, act weird, say weird things, scare the shit out of me with your amount of crazy, oh my god, SAY SOMETHING!_ "... say these things that I don't expect."

Oh. "Is that a bad thing?" I am genuinely worried right now.

"No," he says, smiling gently. He turns to me, leaning against the boob-level railing. "I like being surprised. Your brain is a very unique creature."

"You make it sound like a unicorn."

"Well, unicorns are pretty amazing, so it wouldn't be a too far-off comparison."

"I'm going to be honest here, Edward – I don't really know what to do with that statement. I get that you mean it as a compliment, but no one's ever actually complimented my brain before, so I don't have a past experience to tell me how to respond appropriately to that."

"I think a gesture of gratitude might be appropriate. I'll just go ahead and suggest this gesture is of a sexual nature."

I give him a blank stare. "Are you suggesting I give you like a blow-job for calling my brain a unicorn?"

"Well, I wouldn't say no."

"I'm starting to think my brain isn't the only unique one here."

"It's certainly the prettiest one."

"No, seriously, are you trying to score some head? You know you don't have to work for that. At all."

"Shut up, I'm being serious," he says, laughing.

"About wanting a blow job? Or about my brain? Because the brain-conversation is hardly very serious."

"I'm being serious about your _mind_ being very unique. I like it."

"Well see, that's where you had me confused – my mind and my brain are two vastly different things."

"I'm starting to notice that, yes."

I place my boobs on the railing. It really is an excellent height. I don't even need a bra – I can just rest them on here.

"As long as you know that now, we're fine."

"We're better than fine," he says, cocking an eyebrow in a cocky way. In a very _cocky_ way...

_Stop thinking about his penis, Bella_.

"We're Awesome?" I say, referring back to our conversation at the airport earlier. While still thinking about his penis.

"Awesomely Awesome."

"Good," I say and smile at him. He leans in and kisses me softly, lingering for a few lovely seconds. I don't entirely stop thinking about his penis, but it does sink away from the fore-front of my mind, so there's that.

He pulls away only slightly, and looks at me. Like, really _looks_ at me. His eyes sweep over my face and I feel warm under his gaze. I fight my instinct to look away – not because I'm embarrassed or uncomfortable, but because he's making me feel the opposite, and I don't know how to deal with that.

I don't know how to react when he looks at me like this, like he honestly doesn't mind staring at my face.

"I really don't know anyone who is quite like you," he says quietly, his eyes flickering up from gazing at my nose.

I usually find it hard to maintain eye-contact with people, but with Edward I don't mind. It's incredibly intimate, and that just feels right. And the colour of his eyes is even more amazing up close like this, where I can see all the different shades and tones.

"And that's a good thing?" I say, and my voice is stupidly quiet for some reason. It's a wonder he even heard me.

"It's a very good thing."

He looks so serious, but still so gentle. I think my body knows something my brain hasn't caught on to yet; my heart stumbles almost painfully over a beat, before rushing away from me completely. I think my mouth is hanging open unattractively, but there's just not a lot I can do about that, to be honest.

I want to move closer to him, to feel him along every inch of my own body. The air and space between us fizzles, pulling us together like two magnets. I'm just about to move when he speaks.

"Bella..." he says, and his voice is all gravelly and rough, the way it becomes when you're just bordering on a whisper, but not quite there. I'm going to need him to speak to me like this more often. "I-..."

"_Edward, your father's home_!"

Mrs. Masen's voice interrupts him, seconds before she appears in the doorway.

_No! What was he going to say?_

Edward's words stick in his throat, and in their place, he exhales with frustration. His eyes clench tightly shut, and I see his lips silently forming a few very bad words. He straightens up and turns to his mother.

Our moment is officially ruined.

I'm tempted to call Mrs. Masen a cockblocker – to her face – but for some reason I think that might be pushing Operation Eye-Twitch just a bit too far.

A few very bad words of my own run rapidly through my mind. I'm sure the unicorn in there is completely appalled.

But then again, by now it would either be used to it, corrupted by thirteen years of dirty thoughts, or absolutely catatonic due to the horrific lack of innocence I have in there, so really, a few words for genitals and coitus won't hurt it.

"Edward, honey? Did you hear me?"

_Yeah, we heard you when you ruined a really nice moment. You'll forever be Mrs. Cockblocker to me now_.

"Yeah, mom – thanks."

"Okay, sweetie. He'll be right out and you can introduce him to your little lady-friend."

She titters and I want to throw something really heavy at her head. I'm Edward's 'little lady-friend' now?

She turns back into the house before I get around to practicing my aim. I raise my fist and shake it in her direction instead. It's not as satisfying, but I'll make do.

"'Lady-friend'? Okay, that's insulting even me now – what am I, 65 years old?" Edward says, his eyebrows scrunching angrily.

"Well, you'd probably look pretty dashing in a nice sweater-vest."

"I don't know, I think I'd be one of those cool, handsome grandpas who can still wear jeans without looking deranged. You know, hip."

"The only 'hip' thing about you would be your hip-replacement."

"No way. I'll be Alan Rickman-handsome when I'm 65."

I don't think I can argue with that. Edward will probably be the hottest guy in the old folk's home. All the little ladies will knit him sweaters and give him their jell-o just to be graced with a naughty smirk from him.

I am now irrationally jealous of future old people. There's something seriously wrong with me.

"And as long as you won't have to resort to Viagra, you might just be the luckiest old guy ever."

He looks offended.

"Erectile dysfunction isn't a joke, Bella, and definitely not when it comes to me. I don't think I'll have any problems in that area."

"_Well_, there was that one time when we first started dating-..."

"I was drunk! I could barely make my _legs_ stand up, for god's sake. And you're one to talk – you fell asleep with your skirt over your head!"

"In preparation of the sex I thought we were going to have! But then you collapsed on the bed and I gave up."

"I thought we were never to speak of this incident ever again."

"Well, you brought it up."

"What? No, I didn't. You were the one who mentioned it first."

"Yeah, but only because you alluded to never having a problem with it."

"Yeah, but only because _you_ mentioned me needing Viagra!"

"Edward needs Viagra?"

At the unexpected voice, Edward's eyes go very wide and a delightful shade of red tinges his ears.

Rosalie and Emmett step up beside us, crossing their arms and looking at him with genuine amusement.

"I know you said he didn't have a problem with premature ejaculation, -" Rose says to me, and Emmett's head snaps to look at her with surprised glee on his face, "- but I didn't even think to ask if maybe he suffered in other areas."

"I do not suffer in _any_ areas! And when the hell did the question of m-my-... why was premature ejaculation mentioned in regards to me?"

"Your failed sex-hair thing. I suspected something weird was going on when you guys came downstairs after only ten minutes, but looking like you'd fucked like bunnies."

"That was Bella's fault."

I shrug with a nod. I can't really argue with that.

"And I do not have any problems in that area whatsoever. Our sexlife is-... you know what, it's none of your business."

I love how Edward can be such a prude sometimes.

"Then why were you talking about Viagra?"

"Sweater-vests," I say.

"Alan Rickman," Edward says at the same time.

It's quiet for a few beats, and Emmett frowns.

"I don't get it," he says to Rosalie.

"Ah, there you all are!"

The theme of the hour seems to be 'People Walking in Abruptly and Interrupting Conversations.'

We all turn to the door and see who I can only assume is Mr. Masen.

Okay yeah, Edward's still gonna be handsome when he's old.

The best way to describe the man walking towards us, in an expensive suit with his tie slightly loosened, is to say that he is _foxy_.

No, not even _foxy_. He's _'Oooh, FOXeehhh!_' which doesn't even make sense. He has curly hair like Emmett, but the colour is closer to Edward's – it's darker and more brown, but there's enough red in there to see where Edward got it from. It's going gray at his temples, but he looks sophisticated and handsome nonetheless.

The effect of his foxy appearance is slightly ruined when he reaches the steps leading up to us; his foot gets caught and he stumbles forward, but with flailing arms and a well-placed "Oopsy daisy!", he rights himself quite smoothly.

No one acts like this is unusual, so I pretend like I see foxy men tripping all the time.

"Whoa, almost fell over there," he says, which makes me wonder why we humans have this seemingly compulsive need to say things like that, or '_Oh wow, that could have ended badly_,' or '_Whoops, I almost tripped_,' when our clumsiness decides to embarrass us in front of others. My own clumsiness has done this to me so often over the years that my need to reiterate what just happened to my unintentional audience has disappeared, but not everyone can be so lucky, I suppose.

"Well, what else is new? Hi, dad," Emmett says, giving his father a hug.

"Hey, watch it, son. How was your flight? Good? Where's Rose? She's the only reason I tolerate having you around anymore."

"Hey, Ed," Rosalie says with a laugh, stepping forward to give him a hug too.

"Ah, I still don't understand what a girl like you is doing with this huge lump," he says, pointing at Emmett. It makes me happy to see that he only grins in response. Clearly, Mr. Masen doesn't take after his wife in the insult-department.

"I figure he has pretty good genes," she says, winking at Mr. Masen, who just laughs and gives her another hug.

I decide that I really like Mr. Masen.

"Edward, good to see you again, son," he says after letting go of Rosalie. "You survive the Mom-Attack? Good boy."

Edward laughs when they hug.

I _really_ like Mr. Masen.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Miss Bella Swan," Edward says, sounding very proud as he turns and gestures to me. It makes me want to giggle and blush like a fifteen-year old girl.

"The infamous Bella Swan, we meet at last," Mr. Masen says as he takes my hand. "I don't think I've ever met a girl with a more appropriate name."

I don't giggle, but the blush appears. Mr. Masen just more than made up for his wife's earlier dig at my name.

"Uhm, thank you," I say with awkward bashfulness, because that's how I roll. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Masen."

"Oh, don't even try it. I get enough asskissers calling me 'Mr. Masen' on a daily basis – I want people I actually like to call me Ed. So, please – Ed. You're Edward's girlfriend and you come highly recommended by him."

Edward coughs in embarrassment when I look over at him. Cutest boyfriend ever.

"Well, I hope he hasn't told too many lies about me."

"I don't think he has. I'm pretty sure his imagination isn't that extensive. A girl like you must be real – he'd never be able to make you up."

"Hey! My imagination isn't that crap!"

I think it's hilarious how everyone just ignores his outraged and indignant denial.

"It's nice to meet you, Ed. I was just admiring the general splendour of your deck here."

_Don't tell him the railing is boob-level, please_.

He smiles at me, reaching over to give Edward a clap on the shoulder. Before he can speak, though, Mrs. Masen pops up in the doorway and interrupts him.

No, seriously – what's with the sudden interruptions? With the way things are going, I bet someone will burst into the bathroom while I'm taking a shower.

"Oh, Ed, I just got some great news! You know those special flowers I wanted for Saturday?" Ed nods, but Mrs. Masen clearly isn't done talking. "The ones with the smell, and the colours? But then Helen ordered them for her 4th of July party before I got around to it, and I couldn't have them anymore? And I had to buy the other boring ones? I mean, they were lovely, but they weren't like those first flowers which was a shame, but we couldn't _possibly_ have those flowers if Helen w-"

"Yes, honey, I know which flowers you're talking about. What about them?"

"Well, I just got off the phone with Miranda – you know, who is just going to make a quick appearance at Helen's before coming over here to _actually_ celebrate – and apparently Helen's husband – you know, Mark? You played a game of golf with him a few years ago? – well, apparently Mark had some kind of allergic reaction to the flowers, so she's been forced to _replace them completely_! Do you know what this means?"

Ed sighs, but plasters on a patient smile.

"No, what honey?"

"I can order those flowers now! I am absolutely thrilled, they are so much better suited for the house than the ones I was forced to order at first."

"That's great, honey."

"I know. It's just such a shame that they wouldn't let me cancel my first order. I haven't the faintest idea what I'll do with-"

"Wait. What? You couldn't cancel? What are you saying, that we're getting both orders of flowers now?"

Mrs. Masen blinks, looking surprised by her husband's annoyed confusion.

"Yes, of course, dear. I've paid for them already."

Ed's face goes blank.

"Again, I'm not sure what on earth I'll do with them, though. Maybe I'll give them to the women's shelter, and they can make potpourri or something."

She trills a little laugh and then disappears back into the house. We all stand around, floored by the insensitivity and ignorance her last comment showcased.

"She's... paid... for two... flower-orders?"

Ed sounds confused, flabbergasted, shocked, and kinda like someone just punched his kidney. He looks around at all of us with pain in his eyes and rapidly slipping hope that someone will tell him he didn't just hear that.

Emmett nods slowly, and Ed slumps in defeat.

Quiet descends upon us. For a long time. We all shuffle our feet awkwardly as Ed digests this news.

Maybe I should mention the boob-level thing anyway, just to break the silence. Nothing like boobs to cut tension, right?

Just as I open my mouth to embarrass myself for the greater good, Ed groans quietly. He looks at all of us again, and then nods with determination.

"Right, I need a drink. Who wants margaritas?"

* * *

There you have it, my friends. And I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind a margarita right now.

I've been **incredibly** fail with my review replies this time around, and if you haven't heard from me, I apologise so, so much. I read, love, smile over and treasure every single review I get, and I can't even tell you how much I appreciate that you guys take the time to share your thoughts with me. I will do better this time, and hopefully FFn won't be giving me too much trouble.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I've started the next one already, so with a bit of luck it shouldn't be too long until I can post it.

Thanks for reading, guys. You are all awesome.

/Vic


	18. The Supermancowboy

Happy Humpday, ladies! And for those of you celebrating 4/20, I hope you have your munchies stocked and ready.

As always, huge amounts of love and gratitude to bouncy 72 and OLVamptramp for their help on the chapter, and especially to IcelandGirl812 for calling Edward a pussy.

*insert boring stuff about SM and Twilight*

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Superman-cowboy**

EPOV

Oh my god.

Oh, jesus christ.

Oh, holy crap.

I almost did it. I almost told Bella I love her.

It was on the tip of my tongue. We were having such a nice moment, and I was staring into her eyes, and she was looking at me with this dazed expression. I'd complimented her mind, she'd talked briefly about her boobs, and I just knew. _The_ _Moment_ had arrived. This was it. It was time. The Perfect Moment would elude me no longer.

Then Mom ruined it.

I clutch my margarita, trying to ignore the smattering of cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. I'd been so close! I can't believe how close I really was to finally admitting how I feel, to making the most romantic gesture of my young life.

I briefly feel very pathetic about the fact that my most romantic gesture will be to tell a woman I love her, but I get over it quickly.

Just thinking back on how close I was to saying it – out loud – is making me so nervous I feel sick. Or like I want to bang my head against a wall. Either one would work, really.

I replace clutching my margarita with drinking my margarita. I should ask Dad to make me something a bit more manly. The Viagra-conversation earlier already wounded my inner caveman and masculinity – no need to make things worse by not drinking like a beer or whiskey or something.

_But this margarita is so yummy_.

"So Bella, where are you from originally?"

I glance up. We're all standing in a loose circle around the bar, and an awkward silence has been threatening to descend upon us. I'm thankful my father is trying to get a conversation started, but I only listen with half an ear. I smile as needed, laugh along with everyone else and occasionally offer up a few words, but it's all an illusion.

The majority of my attention is focused on the earlier failure of my Big Moment. In a strange way that I blame entirely on my brain, I am now even _more_ afraid of telling Bella how I feel. Like how you avoid ironing your clothes after you get burned on the iron, or stop eating apples after seeing half a maggot left in one you just took a bite out of.

I had my moment, and it passed me by. Or was stolen from me, really. Either way, I missed it, and now I can't help but wonder if I'll have the balls to seize the next moment that comes by.

««◊»»

"Oh my god. _Edward_! Look at you! You were so _adorable_! Rosalie, oh my god, look at his butt!"

These are the words you never want to hear from anyone looking through your childhood photo-albums. My first instinct is to immediately snatch the godforsaken album from their hands and burn it, but I'm pretty sure that would upset everyone more than necessary, so I don't.

My second, much less brilliant instinct, is to make a half-gurgle, half-yelp sort of noise and then slap my hands over Bella's eyes. I hate myself for actually following through with this second instinct.

I lean awkwardly over the back of the couch, my hands firmly glued to Bella's face. She starts laughing hysterically.

"Edward, what are you doing?" Rose says, yanking on my arm to no effect.

"You're looking at naked baby-pictures of me, Rose! What do you think I'm doing?"

"Dude, it's not like she hasn't seen it before," Emmett says, pointing at Bella. "Shouldn't you be covering _my_ girlfriend's eyes?"

I pause and think about this for a second.

I hate when Emmett's right.

"You cover her eyes, dumbass!"

"E-Edward, l-let go," Bella says through her braying laughter.

_I would, Bella my love, but I know that if you look at the next picture, you will see a certain body part of mine that is remarkably smaller than you're used to. Let's not traumatise ourselves that way, shall we?_

"Can you stop with the baby pictures? Seriously, I'm much more interesting now than I was back then."

Bella slumps back against the couch, her head now resting against my stomach. She pouts at me through her giggles. She knows I can't resist or deny her anything when she uses that pout, even upside down as it is now. Damn her.

_Destroy photo-album and priceless memories, or allow the love of your life to see your three-year-old-teeny-tiny penis? Decisions, decisions._

"Edward... please?"

And then she pouts just a little bit more, and I can't resist her.

Against my better judgement, I growl out a "Fine!" and remove my shielding hands from Bella's face. She emits a sound of glee and anticipation, so I think a warning is in place.

"I just want to say, I was three years old in the next picture, and _everything_ is much bigger now. So you can all shut up with your comments."

"Edward, ew," Rose says, wrinkling her nose at me.

"Yeah, dude, I think we sort of figured that out on our own," Emmett adds. "Because otherwise, three-year-old you would either have junk the size of a grown man, or you would have junk the size of a toddler. Both those options are equally disturbing."

"_Oh my god..._!" Bella squeals, ignoring both Rose and my brother. She's turned the page and is now looking at a picture of me, dressed in Dad's old cowboy boots, a fireman-helmet and a Superman-cape, wielding a fistful of Animal crackers.

The rest of me is buttass naked.

"Edward! Oh my god, you were so _cute_," Bella says, drawing out the word. "Were you having identity issues or something?"

"No," I say, "I was the ultimate superhero – I could fly like Superman, put out fires and rescue people from burning buildings, and I could ride horses and shoot stuff."

"Oh, of course. Obviously."

"Wouldn't just being Superman enable you to do all those things and then some?"

"Yes, Rose, this is true, but if I had just been Superman, I couldn't wear my cowboy boots, could I?"

She nods seriously, looking down at the picture.

"Damn, now I kind of want you to dress up as a cowboy for Halloween," Bella says wistfully, and I laugh.

"I think I'd prefer Indiana Jones," I say, leaning over to place a kiss on the top of her head.

She thinks for a second, and then nods. "Yeah, me too."

Emmett leers. "Are you gonna go down in his snake pit, Bella?"

"Emmett! Ew," Rose says, turning around and slapping him on the stomach.

"Okay, seriously, we _need_ to stop talking this much about my private parts," I say, objecting.

"Yes, leave that for the dinner table," Dad suddenly says from behind us.

_What is with all these interruptions today? Jesus christ. _

"Speaking of which, your mother wants you to set the table. So get to it."

««◊»»

Say what you want about my mother, but the woman knows how to cook. We all dig in happily to the feast she's presented us with. Emmett basically creates a mountain on his plate while Rose looks on with accustomed disgust.

Dad is obviously quite taken with Bella, and he insists she sit next to him. I act as a buffer between her and Mom, who sits at the other end of the table. Not that this stops her.

"So, Isabella," she says, dabbing a napkin around her lips, "what do you do for a living?"

Bella's fork is left hanging halfway between her mouth and her plate. I can't believe Mom called her Isabella; I know she's doing it on purpose, but I just can't understand why. I think I might have to ask Grandma if Mom was ever dropped on her head as a child.

Bella clears her throat. "I, uh, work as a waitress."

Mom's eyebrows slowly rise and she blinks. "A waitress?"

"Mmhm," Bella says, nodding. "It's a good way to pay the bills. But it's just temporary – it's not exactly something I want to do my whole life."

Mom takes a sip of her wine. "And what is it you intend to do instead?"

Bella smiles. "I'm not sure yet. I mean, I'm still entertaining thoughts of running away with a circus – my inner five-year-old would be thrilled."

We all laugh, except for Mom. She just smiles for a few seconds.

"Isn't that nice."

Bella's smile falters slightly at Mom's tone. My chest constricts at the sight, and a flash of anger heats my blood. I want to snap at my mother, but I know that will only make things worse. I can't speak for Bella in this, because that will only make her seem weak. I can't say anything about how Bella has been looking for jobs everywhere she can think of, because any defence I come up with will only acknowledge Mom's dig at Bella. I can't say anything, because Mom would be able to turn it around as a negative on Bella.

I saw her do it with Rosalie when Emmett first brought her home. Emmett tried defending her, and Mom made it seem like Rose was using her beauty to trick him into a relationship so she could go after his trust fund.

'Pretty Woman' was referenced.

So instead I smile wider. Turning subtly in my seat, away from Mom, I reach over and take Bella's hand.

"Maybe we should run away to the circus together. You'll need someone to catch you when you fall off the high-line anyway."

Her faltering and slightly embarrassed expression melts away, replaced by a blooming smile. She squeezes my hand in a silent thank-you.

"_When _I fall? You don't have to sound so sure about it."

"Pssh. You wouldn't be able to stay on that line if it was ten feet wide and lying on the ground."

She attempts a scowl, but she is woefully unsuccessful. It might have something to do with how she can't stop grinning at me, but I can't be sure.

She's so pretty.

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward," Mom cuts in, tsk-ing. "You're much too good for something like _that_."

A slight emphasis on the 'you're' makes it abundantly clear that Bella isn't included in her statement, and she isn't talking about the circus either.

She might as well have shouted it in Bella's face: '_I don't think you're good enough for my son._'

A tense silence settles over the table. I squeeze Bella's hand harder, watching her duck her head slightly.

I feel my nose flaring, and I clench my jaw as my anger flares up again. I have to say something now – I just can't let Mom throw these comments out and let her think she can get away with it.

I open my mouth a second later, but I'm interrupted before I can speak. Dad places his knife and fork down, just shy of slamming them against his plate. Mom's head snaps up, wide-eyed.

"Liz, _please_," he says, pausing for a second to level her a hard 'We've-been-married-for-thirty-years-and-can-have-entire-conversations-with-our-eyes' look. "I'm sure they weren't _actually_ thinking about running away with the circus."

He raises his eyebrows, in a slightly challenging way, and we all know he isn't talking about clowns and lion-tamers either.

I run my thumb gently back and forth over Bella's finger as the awkward tension rises around the table. My parents stare at each other for a long couple of seconds before my mother looks down. She sniffs delicately, and then forces out a trilling laugh.

"I know that. I'm sure Isabella won't have to resort to anything as drastic as that."

Bella is more quiet than usual during the rest of the dinner. She only picks at her food, hardly looking at anyone for long.

I don't know what I can say to her. I hate seeing her like this, and I hate it even more that it's my own fucking _mother_ who has caused it. She won't look at me, but whenever I reach over to squeeze her knee or run my fingers through her hair, I see her lips twitching into a small smile. It's something at least.

When Emmett and Rose help Mom clear the table, Dad leans over to her. He pats her hand gently and smiles.

"Just ignore Liz, Bella; that's what I do when she gets like this. It has nothing to do with _you_." He then shifts his eyes to look at me and smirks meaningfully. Bella lets out a small laugh, and he winks at her.

I don't know if I feel better because Bella is laughing again, or worse because my dad just pointed out that the only reason Mom is treating her like this is because of me.

««◊»»

"You ready for bed?"

It takes Bella a few seconds to respond; it looks like she's been lost in her thoughts. She shakes her head a little as she comes out of it and glances at me. "Hmm?"

"Bed? The movie's over."

After dinner we'd put on a movie down in the den. Mom and Dad had gone to bed early on, and Em and Rose gave up about an hour ago. Bella hasn't spoken a word since she mumbled 'good night' to them.

She nods at my question, and we silently turn off the TV and the lights and trudge up the stairs.

"Do you want the bathroom first?" I ask when we reach my room.

"No, you go first," she answers quietly, walking over to her bag. I stare at her as she starts rummaging through it, but I'm pretty sure she's not actually looking for anything specific. I wait a little longer, just wanting her to turn around and smile at me or call me a weirdo for staring at her... but she doesn't. That bag must be incredibly interesting.

I sigh and walk into the bathroom.

I have to get her to talk to me so I can figure out exactly what's wrong. I know it has something to do with my mother, but Bella's brain works in mysterious ways – I never know what she's thinking. She could be upset over a great number of things, and I won't know the right words to say to her until I know what she's worried about.

The only problem is that Bella can sometimes be difficult to crack. She's like a ten thousand piece puzzle or differential calculus; it once took me four hours to figure out that she was sad because Shia LaBeouf and Carey Mulligan had broken up.

When I walk back into my room, she's sitting on the edge of my bed, fiddling with her fingers.

"It's all yours," I say, pointing over my shoulder – a useless action, since she doesn't look up.

She just nods and rises to her feet. She keeps her head down, but when I catch a quick glimpse of her red cheeks, I can't stand it anymore.

"Hey... Bella, wait. Stop," I say as she starts walking past me. I grab her arm gently and tug her around to face me. "Hey... are you okay?"

Her shoulders pull up towards her ears, and I wait in silence, drawing on my very last vestige of patience.

Right before I'm about to repeat my question, she slowly shakes her head, her hair rippling in small waves. The sight breaks my heart.

"Bella..."

I pull her with me as I walk backwards to sit down on the bed. She stands between my knees, loosely gripping my fingers. When I reach up to cup her cheek with my free hand, she sniffles softly.

Is she crying? I can't stand it when she cries. It freaks me out and makes me panic, because I never want her to be sad and I always want to fix whatever it is that's upsetting her.

I push her hair behind her ear, and she finally raises her face, looking at me. Her eyes are brimming with tears, her bottom lip almost white from where she's biting in to it. I forget everything else when I see the expression on her face.

"Oh, Bella..."

As I whisper her name once again, the tears overflow and fall down her cheeks. Her brow crinkles and a tiny little sob leaves her.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't w-want to cry, I just... I j-just..."

With my heart beating heavily in my chest, and my inner caveman grunting at me to comfort my woman, I pull her onto my lap. She comes immediately, burying her face against my neck.

"Shh, honey, please don't cry. She's not worth it." I hug her tightly to my chest, fighting the urge to storm into my parents' bedroom and yell at my mother.

"I kn-know, I don't want to cry, I'm just-... the whole day has just been s-so-... and she's just s-so... I don't get it," she mumbles incoherently against my skin, hiccupping over the occasional sob or sniffle. "I'm so _mad_ at her, but at the s-same time, I'm just so _hurt_, you know?"

"God, I know. I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm going to talk to her tomorrow – I mean, _really_ talk to her and tell her that I won't let her do this to you. That she can't treat you like this."

I press a kiss to her forehead as she nods, sniffling quietly. I coax her to sit up and look at me.

"I promise, I won't let her do this again." I cup her cheek and wipe at her tears, staring into her eyes. It's not only my heart that's breaking, seeing her like this – it feels like my whole chest is cracking open. I love her more than anything, and watching her cry... I can't stand it.

She nods and a slightly wobbly smile appears on her lips, but fresh tears well in her eyes anyway. She smiles wider when I frown at the sight.

She tries to smooth out the furrows on my brow, but I won't budge them. She actually sobs out a little laugh.

"I c-can't stop cr-crying when you're looking at me," she says, moving her hand down to cover my eyes. She laughs a little more, and I snort, despite the anxious feeling in my gut.

"I hate seeing you cry."

"S-so don't l-look at me."

"Your hand is in the way, Bella – I can't see even if I wanted to."

She laughs through another sob, her hand slipping from my face as she leans back into my shoulder. I cradle her close, almost unconsciously rocking us back and forth.

We sit there for a while, Bella's sniffles eventually dying down until she's calm again. She strokes my neck slowly, and I draw little patterns on the skin of her back with my fingers.

I feel her lips pressing softly against my throat.

"Thank you," she mumbles quietly.

"For what?" I murmur back, tilting my head down a little.

"For being Awesome," she whispers. With a supple movement, she shifts on my lap until she can hug me, squeezing her arms around me tightly. "I'm sorry I cried. I just needed to get some emotions out, I guess. I knew she'd be like this – you've all given me more than enough warnings. I-... I guess it was just more difficult than I thought it was going to be. Experiencing it, I mean."

"Don't apologise, Bella. I'm surprised you didn't cry more. A weaker person would have broken down long ago."

"Yeah, I'm just disappointed, I suppose. I've been thinking this whole time that I wasn't going to cry, that I wasn't going to let her 'win', or whatever. And now look at me. And today wasn't even as bad as some of the things I've imagined and prepared myself for."

I pull her back so I can see her. "That's the thing though, Bella. You shouldn't have to be prepared for anything like this. My mother is supposed to-... she's supposed to be happy for me, and treat you with respect and kindness, because that's what you deserve. Not this... this... shit. She's giving you _shit_ for absolutely no reason at all, and I promise you, I'm not going to let her do that. I _will_ talk to her, first thing tomorrow morning."

Bella smiles and cups my cheek. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. Of course I'll talk to her. I won't let her do this to you."

She leans in and kisses me softly, and I hold her there for a while. I love having her this close to me.

That's when I decide that I'm not ready for bed yet. I don't want to sleep, but I know exactly what I want to do instead.

I pat Bella gently on her butt and get her to stand up.

"Come on – I want to do something."

She gives me a quizzical look as I grab her hand and lead her out of my room.

"Edward, what are we-"

"Ssh," I whisper, squeezing her hand. "You'll see. Just be quiet."

I lead her downstairs and out the backdoor. Her face is stuck on '_Wtf_?'-mode the entire time. We walk across the backyard and down towards the pool.

It's hidden away from the house and garden by ten feet high hedges – Mom never liked the idea of sunbathing or swimming in public, so she had the hedges put up to shield the pool from neighbours and curious eyes. I always thought it was a ridiculous idea, but now I'm extremely grateful for it.

With only the moon in the sky, the backyard is dark and mysterious. I feel like Bella and I are sneaking off to do something forbidden, which just makes it better. The dark makes it all so much more exciting and secret.

I don't want to share Bella right now. So to know that the darkness and the hedges will hide us away for a while is extremely comforting.

Bella saw the pool-area just briefly when I took her on the tour, so I know she's caught on to where we're going by now. I can still feel her hesitance in the way she tugs slightly on my arm though.

I pull her around the hedge, and the '_Wtf_?' is still clear as day on her face, even in the limited light.

"What are we doing out here?"

There's no chance of anyone hearing us from the house, but the general naughty-and-forbidden aura that settles around us makes her whisper anyway.

"I thought we could take a dip in the pool. Swimming at night is one of my favourite things to do."

Her face still says '_Wft_?'.

"Come on, trust me," I say, laughing at her. "No one can see us, and they're all asleep anyway."

She glances toward the pool and I can tell I'm winning her over. I think I must have superpowers.

"Come on," I repeat, squeezing her hand. "Swim with me."

"I... I don't have anything to wear." She pulls at her t-shirt, and I roll my eyes.

"Swim in your underwear, that's what I'll be doing. And there are towels in the pool-house, so stop worrying, please. Just have fun."

She looks down at my crotch. "You're swimming in your underwear?"

"Yeah."

She blinks a few times and then nods. "Okay."

Then I get to behold the most glorious sight in the world – Bella stripping out of her shirt and pants. I quickly follow suit and watch her stand on the top step leading into the water.

Okay, I'm looking at her ass, but who could blame me?

"How cold is the water?"

"It's usually really nice this time of year. And don't worry – if you're cold, I'll keep you warm."

She looks at me over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at my obvious innuendo.

"Shut up, you dork."

"Just get in the water."

On a whim, I decide to turn on the underwater lights. It makes the risk of us being detected a bit bigger, since anyone in the house would see a subtle glow if they looked out a window. But when it means that I can see Bella even better... well, there really isn't a choice.

She looks back at me nervously when the lights come on, but I just shake my head and smile. She hesitates for a few seconds longer, but then steps into the water.

I watch as she slowly makes her way into the middle of the pool, arms raised slightly over the surface. She hisses when the water touches new skin, but she relaxes gradually. She turns to face me after she stops, and I grin at her happy smile.

"You coming?" She cocks her eyebrow and sticks out her tongue a little, making me laugh. As I step into the water, she takes a huge breath and dunks herself completely. When she comes back up, she does so almost soundlessly. Her hair looks black in the relative darkness, now all wet and slicked back on her head.

She looks stunning.

I realise I'm having one of those moments where I'm suddenly a little overwhelmed by the thought that she's _my_ girlfriend. That I'm hers, and that I can touch her and kiss her and make her smile. It's enough to even make my caveman a little emotional.

I move towards her, but she matches every step I take, slowly making her way to the deep-end. We both grin when her back hits the wall, forcing her to stop.

"See? The water isn't that bad, is it?" I ask as I reach her, immediately putting my hands on her waist.

"No, it's amazing."

I lean in and kiss her, tasting the water on her lips.

_Thank god my parents have the pool cleaned on a regular basis_.

She pushes me away after a little while, putting a hand on my head and playfully pressing down.

"Come on, full submersion, please."

I gladly comply with her wishes, because I have no qualms about keeping my eyes open under water. I get a delightful view of Bella's mismatched underwear clinging to her pale skin as I go down. The flat planes of her stomach look particularly appealing in the glow of the underwater lights.

We swim around for a while, laughing quietly and just talking about random things. We touch whenever we pass each other, and I'm happy to see that Bella's almost constantly smiling now. I'd hoped this swim would take her mind off today's disaster, and it seems to have worked.

I swim up beside her, where she's gently floating on her back. She's looking up at the stars and the bright moon, and she has the most peaceful expression on her face. I run my hand up and down her side and she turns to me.

"This was a really good idea, Edward."

She rights herself until she can wrap her arms around my shoulders, and I can put mine around her waist. We're in deep enough water that her feet don't even touch the floor like this.

"I'm full of good ideas. And some bad ones. But mostly good ones."

Bella grins, reaching up to wipe away a drop of water from my nose. The warmth from her boobs feels amazing against my chilled chest.

Her knees come up to press lightly against my hips; it's not a sexual thing – sadly – it's just for her to keep herself balanced. But I welcome the improved closeness, sliding my hands slightly lower on her back.

She traces my face slowly with her fingertips. The tiny creases on my forehead, the bridge of my nose, my eyebrows and eyelids, sliding down my cheek and following my jaw. She scratches a nail through my sideburns, tickling the shell of my ear. Her fingers go down my neck and up again, rubbing along the beginnings of my scruff.

I force myself not to twitch my lips as her pinkie follows the outline of my mouth. It tickles almost more than I can bear, but it is excruciatingly nice anyway.

Her eyes follow every movement of her fingers, raking carefully over my face. I just watch her. There's a gleam of fascination in her expression that I find both adorable and slightly flattering.

The only sounds are the soft lapping of the water against us, and our even breathing. Bella finishes her exploration, and she cups my cheek, rubbing her thumb gently over my skin.

And as she looks into my eyes, looking so deeply and calmly, seeming to take me in just as I'm taking in her, it suddenly dawns on me. It's very sudden, but I don't feel startled or overwhelmed or anything. The realisation that I don't need a 'perfect' moment to tell Bella I love her just slides into my brain, fully formed and accepted without so much as a hitch.

Because as sappy and girly and lame as it sounds, every moment I have with Bella is perfect, _because_ I love her. And I've been such an idiot for being scared of letting her know that.

I pull her a little closer, and she smiles peacefully. She leans in and kisses away the lingering feeling of her fingertip tracing my lips, and when she pulls back, she looks so much calmer all of a sudden.

She strokes her thumb one more time over my cheek.

"I love you, Edward."

And I don't even have it in me to feel surprised right now.

I feel a lot of things, hearing her say those words – extreme joy, a wave of butterflies in my stomach, a slight concern over the health of my heart when it starts beating twice as fast as normal – but I don't feel surprised or jarred or anything. Just as I felt right about being on the brink of saying those words to her, it feels right to hear her say them to me.

"I love you, too, Bella."

And it isn't some Hollywood-perfect moment with rose petals, champagne and a grand gesture, but standing here in this pool, with Bella anchored to me in the water, it's more perfect than anything else I could have planned out or orchestrated.

What kind of an idiot needs to plan some grand gesture to tell a girl he loves her, anyway? Man, I can be fucking stupid sometimes.

"You do?"

And the brilliant smile that's growing on Bella's face right now emphasises my stupidity. If I'd just told her how I feel ages ago, I would have seen this smile so much sooner.

"I really, really do. More than anything. And I have for a really long time, and I've been such an idiot for not telling you."

She shakes her head and laughs.

"No, I-... I should have told you sooner. I realised months ago that I'm so fucking in love with you, and I've just been too scared to say it first."

I raise my eyebrows and laugh.

"Wow. We're both a couple of idiots, aren't we?"

She giggles happily and nods.

"I guess so. I hope you don't mind being loved by an idiot."

I grin, crushing her to me. "Believe me – one idiot to another and all – I don't mind one bit."

We then proceed to give the pool the most action it has ever seen.

Bella even loses her bra. 

* * *

Finally, right? I know some of you are saying it.

Now, I just have to put a little **warning** here: **if you don't see another update for a while, it is because I am going to be extremely busy in May and June**. I have an assload of deadlines and exam-revision to do for University, so RL is going to be kicking my ass. I will write if I have the time and energy, but I just wanted to let you guys know what the situation is.

Same goes for my other story, _Getting Lost_ – I know I haven't updated that in ages, and believe me, I feel terrible about it. For some reason, I'm experiencing a bit of a block on that story, and my progress on the next chapter is extremely slow. For anyone here who reads it, I am so sorry for the delay. I am working on it, I promise. I am not abandoning any of my stories.

So yeah. I _think_ I might manage one more chapter of Up To Scratch before I'm swamped with coursework, but we'll see how it goes.

Anyway, sorry for the long A/N – I just wanted to let you guys know what's going on.

Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter :)

Until next time (whenever that may be),

Vic


	19. The Buttercup Discussion

Hey. So… it's been a while. I'm really sorry about that, and I hope you can forgive me. RL is getting difficult to dodge, and my brain is enjoying its random spout of ADD. It makes me start new things before I finish others, and it's really rather annoying.

Anyway – bottom line, I'm sorry for being fail and sucking. I know a lot of you have lost interest in this story, and for that I truly apologise. I wish I could update twice a week for you guys. For those of you who're still sticking with these two… I call you crazy in the most lovable way possible.

A huge thanks to KiyaRaven for being amazing, as usual. She waged war against my adverbs, and she looks hot in combat boots.

**Quick summary of previous chapters: **Bella and Edward have arrived at his parents' (Edward Sr and Elisabeth's) home to celebrate 4th July. Mrs. Masen is a cow. Bella has tried implementing Operation Eye-Twitch in an effort to piss Mrs. Masen off, but so far, she's had very little success. While Bella was prepared for Mrs. Masen's behaviour, it has still taken her by surprise, and by the end of their first day there, she breaks down and cries. In an effort to comfort her, Edward promises he'll talk to his mother, and then takes Bella out for a little midnight swim in the pool. Here they finally reveal their undying love for each other, after five long months of being insecure stupid-heads.

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Buttercup Discussion**

EPOV

"I can't find my bra!" Bella whispers, one arm clamped over her naked chest. She scampers around the edge of the pool, looking for the thing. "Where the hell did you throw it?"

I blink, frozen in place. "I... uh, I'm not sure. Sorry. I mean, once it was off, I couldn't really concentrate on anything else. Cuz'... you know. Naked boobs."

"But why did you have to throw it away like that?" she asks, sounding more annoyed. She starts looking closer to the hedge.

"Naked boobs." Did I not just explain this?

"Can you just help me look?" Her whisper is shrill and slightly panicked. "I'm not going back into the house without my bra. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure the pool-boy would inform your mother about finding underwear out here. I'm all for pissing her off and stuff, but that might be pushing it."

I pass her a towel before joining in the search. We got out of the pool to go have sex, so I'm just a little bit impatient to get back to my room. "Well, does it really matter? I mean, she might think it was Rosalie's."

"Dude, Rosalie's boobs are like thirteen sizes bigger than mine. I think your mom would be able to draw the proper conclusion as to who the owner is."

Inevitably, I start thinking about Rosalie's boobs. I should not be thinking of those. "Oh, right."

Bella rolls her eyes at me. "I know you're thinking of her boobs."

"Well, you started talking about them. I can't help what my brain shows me."

"I know. I was thinking about them, too. I bet she looks amazing in a bikini."

"Not as hot as you."

Despite herself and her ever more frantic searching, she laughs quietly. "I doubt that, but thank you anyway."

"I'm serious. A perfect handful is all you need, in terms of boobs. Waste not, want not or whatever. And your ass is the stuff of dreams."

"Aww, you're so sweet. Oh! Found it!"

I turn around in time to see her waving her bra over her head in victory. I can't concentrate on that for long, though – she's no longer shielding her chest with her arm, so I'm far more concerned with watching her boobs. Her waving makes them jiggle so nicely.

_God, I love boobs._

"Awesome. Let's go."

I waste no time in turning off the underwater lights and grabbing our discarded clothes. After finally revealing our mutual love for one another, we've been basically stuck somewhere between second and third base for what feels like an hour. Making out with Bella and pinning her against the side of the pool is awesome and all, but I don't exactly have a lot of blood left in the rest of my body now.

Quickly taking her hand, I drag my beloved with me back to the house. She giggles and shushes me when I accidentally misjudge the length of the kitchen island, banging my hip against it. I subsequently start swearing and damning it to hell, but finally, I get her up the stairs and back into my room. As soon as the door is closed, I grab her, intending to throw her down on the bed.

Having sex in your parents' house is, at best, a weird experience, but right now I really don't care. I'll deal with the shame afterwards; I just really need to get laid, or I seriously fear for the health and safety of my balls. There's only so much a man can take before he bursts.

"No, no, wait! Edward, put me down!"

_Not the words I want to hear right now_.

"Huh?" I sound horrifically confused and pained.

"I'll get the bed all wet. I just need to dry my hair first."

I drop her back to her feet. "Are you serious? Do you have any idea how desperate I am right now? Did you not see me practically limping back from the pool?" I point towards my crotch, just so there's no chance of her misunderstanding me.

She has the decency to look a bit guilty. "Yeah, I did see that. And believe me, I'm _right there_ with you – I just need a minute, okay? My hair is dripping on the floor."

"Fine, we'll go have sex in the bathroom."

She huffs at me. "Not at all what I meant."

"I don't care." I try grabbing her again, but she slips away easily.

"Oh my god – another minute won't kill you. Just get your underwear off and get on the bed."

That I can do.

Bella disappears into the bathroom while I struggle with getting my wet underwear off. I finally manage to kick them halfway across the room, where they land with a soggy plop. Before I get on the bed, I scrub the hell out of my hair with a towel. Maybe I do care about getting it all wet after all.

Plus, Bella would totally have my balls for making the pillows all damp and gross.

She appears from the bathroom a minute later. "Now _that_ is something I do like to see," she announces. She grins at seeing me stretched out and waiting for her. A particular point of interest seems to be my majestic manhood.

I don't really blame her.

"Do we have to do a bunch of romantic crap, just because we said 'I love you'?"

"God, no," she says, hurrying over to the bed. She straddles me, her damp hair hanging over one shoulder. A few strands trail over my skin, raising goosebumps. "I do love you, but honestly, I do _not_ have the patience for '_making love_' right now." She leans down and kisses along the line of my jaw, until she reaches my ear. She nips at it softly with her teeth, and whispers against me, "Just fuck me, please."

"_Oh, god_," I groan, grabbing her tightly. I roll us, bringing her under me. Her little gasp of appreciation almost drives me crazy. I kiss her, craving the heat of her lips and tongue. She pulls me closer immediately, almost clawing at me. She smells like chlorine, and her skin is sticky from being in the cold water, but she is still the most glorious thing in my world. With an impatient moan, she wiggles a hand in between our bodies, grabbing me unceremoniously. I hiss, both loving and hating the feel of her chilly fingers against me like that.

"Just get in me, you sexy beast," she says, and immediately makes a face at herself. We both pause awkwardly.

"Can you—... maybe not ever say that again?"

"Yeah. That didn't really work, did it?" She starts laughing. "I sort of meant for it to be funny, but it just came out weird."

"You're always weird. And funny. It's why I love you."

"I love you, too," she says in between giggles. "But can you please just get in me?"

"Well, get your hand out of the way," I say, laughing at her. She does, reaching up to grab the back of my head instead. I lean down and kiss her, lowering my hips to hers. We both groan at the feeling; she shifts underneath me, and oh god, the heat of her...

Her nails dig into the skin of my neck, her whole body shuddering when I slide against her. She wiggles impatiently, clearly wanting me to just cut to the chase.

"Edward, don't tease me," she says against my mouth. A certain note of frustration makes it obvious that I really should just do what she says.

"As you wish," I say. As I manoeuvre myself, trying to hold down my swelling desperation so I don't just barge forwards like a wild boar, Bella starts laughing underneath me.

"'Hello. My name is Inigo Mo- _oooh_!" Her ridiculous accent is cut off as we both groan; I push forward slowly, squeezing my eyes shut. "_Mo-_ Montoya. Y-you killed my father. Prepare to- _oh_! Oh, to- to die.' Oh, _god_!"

"Can we please have this conversation some other time?" I beg her, my voice tight and trembling. Her hips rise to press against me, and the weirdest noise drops from my mouth. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. I can't concentrate. Holy shi—... _jesus._" I move back, feeling her along every inch of me. The feeling is indescribable, and since I've been hard for about an hour, I'm convinced I've discovered what nirvana must be like.

"It's the Princess Bride. You know, the movie." She sounds laughably distracted.

"Uh-huh. Please stop talking about killing people now."

"When he says 'As you wish,' he- _oh_! He means, 'I love you,'" she says, obviously ignoring me. She might as well be talking a different language for all the sense she's making.

"Am I going to have to gag you?" I say, reaching up to cup her face. "I love you, but please shut up."

She eyes go wide for a second before she starts giggling. She pulls me down by my ears so she can kiss me. I decide to keep doing that; if her lips are busy, she can't talk gibberish.

I get completely lost in her, just like I always do. I'm pretty sure I'll last longer than I'm anticipating, but it still won't be very impressive. The good news is that Bella seems even more desperate than me; she doesn't often order me around in bed, but there's a fanatic gleam in her eyes as she tells me to go harder. Her nails dig into my back and my neck, and she seems to be holding on for dear life.

Despite this, I'm starting to worry that this is sort of like a race between a Formula 1 car and a kick-sleigh. I drop my head into the crook of her neck, clenching my jaw and desperately trying to think of anything – anything at all – that will help me last a little longer.

As it turns out, there isn't anything that I can think of that's enough to slow me down. I suspect there's a rocket attached to my Formula 1 car. She just feels too good, and I've been hard for far too long.

I reach up and grab her hand, twisted into the hair at the back of my neck. Frantically braiding our fingers together, I press our hands into the pillow. Bella moans beneath me, her breathing becoming increasingly fast and urgent. With a deep, long groan, I feel everything steadily surging inwards, as if the sensation is being sucked in from the tips of my toes and the top of my head. It builds up, pulling me taught and ready to snap.

Pressing my lips against her neck, I move faster, unable to stop myself. The surging feeling has reached my groin, and I know I only have seconds left. My brain completely runs away from me, and I start babbling breathlessly, grunting into her skin.

"I'm sorry, I can't– I love you, I love you, I lo- love-... _fuck_!"

Bella inhales sharply at my declaration, followed immediately by a strangled cry of pleasure. She starts shaking under me just as I can't hold back anymore. Everything explodes. My body snaps, the tension blasting and radiating straight back out to where it came from. My muscles shudder and twitch uncontrollably and my groans are choppy and choked. I spill into her, feeling my sanity slowly returning to me, bit by bit.

Only then do I realise that Bella's kick-sleigh might've had a rocket on it, too. Her neck is taught, her head thrown back and her whole body bowing up into mine. She shakes almost violently, silently experiencing her own nirvana.

I keep us moving through our high, letting us ride out the wave together. With one last, slow thrust, I still inside her. The occasional shudder kicks down my spine, but immediately, all other movement is beyond me. I manage to slide slightly off to her side, so as not to crush her completely when I collapse.

We breathe heavily, totally synchronised. It actually sounds a little weird, our panting reaching out towards the otherwise silent room. Her chest moves under my arm. I grab her boob softly. It feels like the right thing to do.

After a little while, I tilt my head to the side and kiss her shoulder. She hums under her breath, sounding sleepy.

"So what was the movie you were talking about?"

Her eyes flutter open and she smiles at me. "It's 'The Princess Bride' and it's awesome. We need to watch it sometime. It's got pirates and fire swamps and miracle pills."

I blink. "You watch strange movies."

"It's a classic."

"Uh-huh. It's still weird."

"'You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.'"

"Would you stop it with the accent? And I totally know what 'weird' means."

"As you wish," she says quietly, grinning at me.

I grin back, because I remember what she said about that one. I reach up and kiss her.

"I love you, too."

««◊»»

The next morning, I slowly become conscious as noise from downstairs filters up to my room. I can hear people – far more people than there normally would be – talking, their voices just an indistinct rumbling. My mother's shrill voice cuts through it clearly, though. I can't hear exactly what she's saying, but she seems to be ordering everyone around.

It's the fourth of July. The preparations for the party must already be in full swing.

I look over the top of Bella's head to the bedside table; it's just after nine o'clock.

_Too early_.

With a snuffle, I bury my face back into her neck, tightening my grip around her slightly. Just as I start falling back into oblivion, an almighty pounding slams into my door.

Bella startles awake with a terrified squeak, her arms and legs kicking out spastically.  
_  
__"__Wake up, Suzy! Mom wants us to help set up the tables in the backyard in thirty minutes. Hurry up, or you won't get any breakfast.__"_

I groan at hearing my brother's voice. "Thank you, Emmett," I say tiredly. I can feel Bella's heartbeat again my arm, completely running away from her. She's gasping, a hand against her chest.  
_  
__"__You're welcome__,"_ he says, sounding entirely too happy. Bella scowls at the door, her terror quickly melting into fury.

"You fucking scared me, assface! What the hell is _wrong_ with you!"

A startled silence rings on the other side of the door. I can't help but smile smugly. If there is one thing I know, it's that Bella needs to be woken up gently. Scaring her at nine AM isn't an ideal way to do it.

I did it once myself, in the beginning of our relationship, and lived to regret it the entire day. Emmett will have to watch out.

"_Uh, sorry. I guess I could've—_"

"Could've what? Maybe knocked gently like a normal person would've? Maybe instead of trying to break the fucking door down, you _could've_ been a bit more considerate?"

Again, we're met by Emmett's stunned silence. I don't think he's used to this kind of verbal lashing from anyone but Rose.

"_I'm sorr—_"

"Oh, shut up!"

Bella makes a noise of disgust, her face twisted in annoyance. She wiggles out from under my arm and throws the cover off herself.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she snaps, jumping off the bed and stomping away.

I laugh gleefully to myself – I know she'll be less annoyed once she's been awake for a while, but I'm still so happy it isn't me she's angry at.

I go to open the door, peering out at Emmett's shocked face. I yawn at him.

"Is she— is she alright?"

"Yeah, you just scared the crap out of her. You'll be fine. She won't hurt you at all."

"Are you serious?" He looks worried, straining his neck to look into my room.

"No, the sarcasm in my voice was, in itself, completely sarcastic."

"Is she always like this in the morning?"

"_NO!_" Bella shouts from inside the bathroom, indignant and still pissed.

"Just go away, Emmett. We'll be down in a minute_._"

He stares at the bathroom door for a few more seconds before nodding slowly. He takes a couple of steps back before turning away, as if he's afraid Bella will burst out and attack him if he lowers his guard. I shut the door and shuffle back to the bed, face-planting on it.

"Too. Early," I groan into the mattress. I decide to take a small nap while Bella's gone. It's too bad that she comes out a minute later. I open one eye just in time to see her sigh at the sight of me.

"You heard your brother, Edward. You need to get up."

"No. Don' wanna."

"I want breakfast. I'm not going down there all alone."

I make a grumbling sound. She walks over and smacks a pillow down on my face.

"Ow."

"Get up."

I want to tell her I'm half-way back to being asleep already, but it's difficult to talk when you're half-asleep. I turn my head in the other direction instead. Same thing, really.

She's quiet for a few seconds, before she groans out a little laugh. She seems reluctant to find me amusing, but unable to resist my charms. Suddenly the bed dips and shakes under me. I realise she's climbed on top of me when I feel her knees against my hips and her hands on either side of my head. She kisses her way from one shoulder to the next, her soft lips tickling my skin.

If her plan is to wake me up, she's failing miserably.

She places on last kiss at my temple. "Please get up? I need food."

"Hmph."

"What if your mom comes up here to get you? It sounded like she needed your help."

I can only breathe heavily in response to that.

She's quiet for a while, waiting to see if I'll listen to her, before sitting up. She says in a much louder and more authoritative voice, "If you don't get up right now, I'm going to tickle you."

I groan in protest. _Fuck__. _She knows all my most ticklish spots, too. I don't doubt that she'll follow through on her threat.

Her hands settle softly against my ribs. I fight the urge to curl up into a ball like an armadillo.

"I'm going to count to three. If you're not up—"

"_Stop_..."

"—by then, I'll torture you in the worst—"

"_Nooo_..."

"—way you know. Okay, are you ready? One—"

"Bella."

"—two..."

"Please?"

"Two and a half..."

"Come on..."

"No? Hmm. Alright then – it's your funeral. Thr—"

"I'm up! I'm up!"

I blink my eyes open, throwing my hands out in surrender. She makes a sound of victory and starts bouncing on my ass. Bad decision. I grunt in pain.

"Bella! Bella, my bladder!"

"Oh! Oh, sorry! Sorry, sorry."

"That's alright," I groan as she lifts off me. "S'not your fault I haven't had a piss in like twelve hours."

"So go have one, and get dressed so we can get breakfast."

"Ugh, fine."

I crawl ungracefully out of the bed, shuffling towards my bathroom. When I get back, still walking like a retarded zombie, Bella is dressed and ready. She waits patiently while I drag on my own clothes, fumbling with the button-fly of my jeans.

"So do you know how many people are coming to this thing?"

I look up at her and shrug.

"It's usually around sixty or so. Neighbours, people dad knows from work and their wives and husbands, whoever my mother is currently trying to impress... that sort of thing," I say, grinning at her. Bella gives me a tight-lipped smile back. She looks worried. I walk over and take her hand, coaxing her off the bed.

"You're not nervous, are you?"

Her worried expression briefly transforms into a duh-face.

"Come on, don't be nervous, okay? I promise you, these people are nice. Mostly. They're more like my dad than my mom, anyway." She looks unconvinced. I bend my knees so I come face to face with her. "And I'll stay with you all day, unless you start finding me clingy and tell me to fuck off and leave you alone."

At that she laughs. "I don't think I'll be doing that, but thanks." She gives my chin a quick kiss before turning and walking to the door. I follow her, eyes glued to her ass.

With her hand on the doorknob, she suddenly stops. Hesitation makes her shoulders curl up a little. "Uhm. Did you—..."

"What?"

She slowly turns to face me, leaning back against the door. Her fingers drum against the wood. "Did you mean what you said, last night? About-... about talking to your mom?" She looks up at me, her teeth biting into her lip.

_Meant it? Yes. Remembered it? No__. _

Right. Need to talk to mom.

Awesome.

"I hate to ask and sound like I'm _making_ you do it, but after yesterday, and how she- I just think that if you talked to her, maybe pointed out that she's being a—"

She looks increasingly freaked out as she babbles on. I put my hands up, trying to tell her to calm down.

"Bella, don't worry about it. I _am_ going to talk to mom. I told you – I won't let her treat you like this, okay? You're not making me do anything. Other than, like, get out of bed and stuff."

She lets out a relived sigh, her shoulders relaxing.

"You sure? I mean, I don't want things to get awkward between you and your mom."

"_I_ do. A healthy dose of awkwardness is exactly what our relationship needs. Maybe then she'll stop treating me like a three-year-old."

That earns me an eye-roll. "I don't think _anything_ will make her treat you differently. You could go on a mass-murdering rampage, and drown a few puppies, too, and she'd still say the sun shines out of your ass."

"I really don't think that's true."

"I'd ask if you'd wanna bet on it, but I really don't think killing innocent people and puppies is a good way to prove a point."

"Agreed." I pause. She stares back at me. "Didn't you want breakfast?"

"Oh, right!" She turns around in a flurry and drags me with her down the hallway.

When we come downstairs, the front door is open and people keep rushing in and out of the house. Massive amounts of flowers are being carried inside by stressed-looking men and women. Mom must've yelled at them a bit.

"Is it always like this?" Bella whispers. She watches the procession of flower arrangements with a wary eye.

"Pretty much," I say, nodding.

"Huh."

"Yup."

"Oh, there you are, Edward!" My mother appears at the entrance to the dining room; a guy carrying a heavy-looking box practically runs down the hallway at the sight of her. "Did you sleep alright, honey? It must have been nice to be back in your old bed."

"Yeah, it was okay."

"That's good. It's so nice to have you back in the house, angel."

I cringe at the endearment. Angel? That's just mean.

Mom's eyes flicker to Bella; she blinks, as if surprised to see her.

"Oh. Good morning, Isabella."

Bella straightens her back at mom's tone of voice. "Morning."

I can feel myself glaring at my mother. She doesn't notice it though – she's too busy glancing across the hall into the living room, where all the flowers are being deposited.

"Honey, did Emmett tell you I want you two to help set up the tables outside?"

I sigh, annoyed that my angry glare was all for nothing. "Yeah."

"Oh, good. Well, they're all standing in the garden – I gave your brother a sketch of where I want them all placed, so if you just follow that, you shouldn't have any problems."

I nod, wanting to leave before she gives me more stuff to do. Before I can drag Bella with me though, she decides to speak up.

"Is there anything I can help out with?" Bella asks, actually sounding sincere.

Mom looks at her again. Like before, with her apparent surprise at still finding Bella in the house, she seems taken aback by her offer.

"Well... well, yes, I suppose. Rosalie will be decorating the chairs outside with some ribbons. You could help her with that. It's an easy task, and you won't be in anyone's way. Just do whatever Rosalie tells you to do."

And with that, she gives us a smile and briskly walks off. Anger flares up in me. What the hell was that?

"Alright, that's it," I say under my breath. "Wait here."

Bella makes a small, confused sound as I hurry after my mom. I catch up with her quickly, where she's standing outside and signing off on the delivery of the flowers. She looks up at me as I approach.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"Mom, I need to talk to you," I say, attempting to sound and stand authoritatively, so she'll know I'm being serious about this. I can't have her walking away from me without listening to what I have to say.

She hands off the delivery slip and immediately starts walking away from me.

_Dammit_.

"If it's a long talk, can it wait? I'm very busy today, sweetie."

I follow closely behind her – she walks fast for an older woman in heels.

"No. It's important and—"

"Well, today is important too, Edward. Maybe later; right now I need to go call the caterers."

She leaves me standing in the doorway, shooting off towards her office. I stare after her blankly. That didn't go well. At all.

Bella watches her go before turning back to me.

"What was that about?"

"I wanted to talk to her about you, and she just blew me off. Said she's too busy today," I say while walking over and take her hand. Leading her through the dining room and into the kitchen, we dodge a few boxes labelled 'Decorations.'

"That's probably true. Maybe today isn't such a good day to bring it up," she says.

"I don't care. I'm making her talk to me today."

Bella looks up at me. "Edward, it can wait."

"No, it can't. If I wait, she's just going to say more things to you and think that she's getting away with it. I'm not going to let her. I'll make her talk to me somehow."

She seems sceptical. "I guess you can try."

"I will. I'll lock her up in the closet with me if I have to. I'm talking to her today whether she wants to or not." I squeeze her hand in reassurance. She still doesn't look completely convinced, but I don't let that bother me. "Now come on – I smell French toast."

* * *

I would love to say that the next chapter will be up shortly, but since I can't seem to stick to any such promises that I routinely make, let's just say that it won't take me another eight months to update. Because I highly doubt it will. But I won't promise anything.


	20. The Chart of Fail

My pre-reader is the wonderful KiyaRaven, who is not only hotter than words can describe, but her brain is also tasty smart. Smart like cookies.

Hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

SM owns stuff. Who knew, right?

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Chart of Fail**

EPOV

"Em, let me see that sketch again – we've done something wrong."

I hold my hand out to him while standing on the deck, surveying the back yard. We've definitely done something wrong. Mom's sketch for where she wants all the tables probably makes total sense to her. It just doesn't make any sense to us. She clearly puts way too much stock in our ability to comprehend these sort of things. We have three tables still standing around, but no place to actually put them.

Mom must've overestimated the size of her garden.

"Maybe there's too much space in between the tables? If we squished them together a bit more, I bet we could fit in those other three."

"But if we squish them, we won't be able to fit in all the chairs. And the bar needs to go in over there, so we can't use that space either. The band goes _there_, the dancefloor is _there _and this patch in front of the porch is for mingling."

We stare at each other, then look down at the sketch. We study it for a good thirty seconds, but no solutions pop into our minds. I even turn it upside down, but it doesn't help.

Emmett eventually starts pointing at the paper. "Maybe if we put a table here, and then the other two down here? It's not exactly like Mom wants it, but maybe she won't notice."

I shake my head before he's even finished talking. "No, we can't do that. It's not symmetrical, and Mom's head will explode if it's not symmetrical."

He throws his hands up. "Then what the fuck are we supposed to do? The tables don't fit!"

"How are you doing, guys?" Rosalie says from behind us, suddenly emerging from the house. Bella follows her, both of them carrying bags labelled 'Ribbons, 4th July.'

"Uhm..."

Rose takes one long look at the garden before peering down at the sketch. She gasps.

"Oh, no."

I'm glad she fully realises the gravity of this situation. Bella comes to stand beside me, angling the paper towards her so she can see.

"What's wrong?"

I wave my hand at the remaining tables. "We've done something wrong, but we don't know what. Those tables don't fit in anywhere."

"Can't you just—"

"The bar goes there."

"Oh. But how ab—"

"Mingling area."

"What if you push—"

"The chairs won't fit."

Bella frowns in heavy concentration. "Huh."

"Yeah."

She stares at it for a few more seconds. "How many chairs per table?"

"Five."

"Well, why don't you just put six people at each table instead of five? It would totally fit, and then you'd only need one more table, and you could put that right there," she says, pointing.

She smiles to herself, seeming pleased with her solution. She looks up at us, only to be met with three horrified faces. The smile slowly fades.

"What?"

"But... Mom's seating chart." Emmett sounds like Bella just suggested we set Dad's Aston Martin on fire.

"You can't mess with her seating chart," I say.

She looks back and forth between us. She looks so confused, poor thing.

"Are you-... really?"

We continue to stare. Her mouth drops open.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, we're very serious. No one changes Mom's seating chart. She spends _weeks _on that thing."

"But—"

"Oh no, no. No 'but's. Mom's seating chart is law. It is not to be altered, unless _she_ alters it."

"So... what are you going to do about the tables?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Emmett says, ever so eloquent.

"Can't you just go ask her?" Bella thumbs over her shoulder, toward the house.

This is a solution we should've been able to figure out ourselves. The fact that we didn't sort of embarrasses me. Maybe it was just our subconscious fear of evoking Mom's wrath that kept us from thinking of it first.

Nonetheless...

"NOT IT!" my brother and I immediately yell. We turn to face each other. Clearly we both had the same idea – our mother can be a scary woman. "NOT IT! NOT IT TO INFINITY! INFINITY! NOT IT! FUCK YOU, MAN!

A stunned silence settles over the girls. Or well, stunned from Bella, resigned from Rosalie.

"Does that... happen a lot?" Bella murmurs quietly to Rose after a moment.

"Just about every time they see each other," she replies.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Emmett says to me, ignoring the girls.

"No way. We always pick the same one. We'd keep the game going forever."

"Uhm, Edward?" Bella interrupts before Em can contribute some other idea. She gives me a careful, but meaningful look. "Maybe _you_ should go ask her. Because... I mean, didn't you have that other-... thing? That- that thing you wanted to talk to her about?"

_Subtle_.

But darn it, she's right. Something as important as table-placement would definitely get me Mom's full attention, and then I could trap her somewhere and make her listen to me about the way she's treating Bella. It would be hard for her to blow me off if I had more than one legit reason for wanting to talk.

Suddenly, I feel nervous. I've never really confronted my Mom like this before. What if I mess up?

"Oh. _Oh_. Right, right. Of course. Yeah, I'll- I'll go. It's alright, Em, I'll do it. You guys keep thinking about how we're going to do this," I say, waving my hands at the tables. "I'll be right back."

Bella wears a small, slightly worried frown as she looks at me. I try to smile reassuringly. I don't want her to be worried. She doesn't need to know that my mother sort of scares me.

I give Bella's arm a quick squeeze before walking back into the house in search of my mother.

I find her in the kitchen, supervising the caterers.

"Hey, Mom – I need to talk to you."

She sighs heavily, giving me a disapproving look. "Edward, honey, I told you: I'm very busy right now."

"Yeah, but this will only take a second."

"Have you finished putting out the tables?" she says, ignoring me. "You need to finish them, or we won't be able to start decorating them and putting out the seat placements, and if all of that isn't finished by the time the guests arrive, I am going to be humiliated. You don't want that to happen, do you, sweetie?"

_Well, sort of__. __  
_  
I shake my head, both at myself and her statement. "No, of course not, but that's actu—"

"If you've finished, you can start putting the chairs out. Remember, five at each table, and then tell Rosalie and Isabella to start decorating them."

"Mom, can you please stop calling her Isabella?" I say, frustration bleeding through my voice. "It's Bella, okay? Just call her Bella."

Mom blinks up at me, taken aback by my verbal detour. "Her name _is _Isabella, isn't it?"

I groan a little. "Yes, but that's not the point. Would you ju—"

I notice the caterers unobtrusively staring at us. Or I guess they were only going for being unobtrusive; since I can clearly see them taking too much of an interest in our conversation, I'd say they've failed.

With a glare in their direction, I turn back to her.

"Look, Mom, we need to talk. In private. Can we go to your office?"

"Edward, honey," she says, closing her eyes as she exhales noisily and massages her temple. "I told you, I don't have time right now. It'll have to wait."

"It can't wait. It's to do with the tables."

She frowns at me, clearly puzzled. "Then why on earth would we need to talk in my office? Why can't you just tell me here?"

"Goddammit, Mom." God, this woman is infuriating. I clench my jaw, trying not to lose it. "Fine. Look, I need to see the seating chart."

"Why?"

"Jesus, I just need to see it, alright?"

A hard glint comes into her eyes. "Alright. No need to take that tone with me, Edward. I raised you better than that."

She pauses as if she expects me to agree. I blink.

Her lips tighten slightly, but she brushes past me and says, "I guess I can spare the time. The seating chart's in my office."

She then proceeds to lead me to it, beckoning me to follow her. Into her office. The very place she seconds ago refused to enter.

I very nearly pick up a tomato from the counter and throw it at her.

When we get to her office, I make sure to close and lock the door behind us. She looks up at the unmistakable click.

"There's no need to lock the door, sweetie. The seating chart isn't a secret."

I roll my eyes, but don't say anything. I promised Bella I'd lock my Mom in a closet if I had to - I figure her office works just as well. At least it's roomier.

"Okay, here we are," she says, standing in front of an easel, the huge chart resting against it. It's very fancy and very detailed, with each little table decorated with five little squares to represent each chair.

It also looks nothing like the sketch she'd given Emmett.

I groan and come closer, looking to see where the two differ so we can correct the mistakes outside.

"What did you want to see about it, honey?"

"Well, we were having a bit of a problem making all the tables fit, so we—"

I cut off abruptly.

_What the..._

I squint, hoping against hope that I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing.

_No. No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't do that... __  
_  
But she did.

Emmett and Rosalie have, as always, been placed together at a table on the left side of the garden. Mom and Dad will be sitting at the top, closest to the house. My name is labelled at their table, along with one of Mom's friends and her daughter, Charlotte, as always.

Bella will be sitting at the bottom-right table, as far away from the rest of us as possible. The fucking kids' table is closer than she is.

She put us at different tables.

She fucking put us at different tables.

It's so predictable I never actually thought it would happen.

Anger builds in me, making my breathing harsh and my skin hot. Blood pounds up my veins, burning the shells of my ears and the tops of my cheeks. My hands clench into fists. I can't stop staring at Bella's name, separated from mine. The only other names I recognise at her table are Jessica Stanley, who was my prom date in high school, and Mike Newton, who'd punched me in the face when he got drunk at said prom, screaming something about being in love with Jessica and how dare I try to take her from him, which had been awkward.

Mom knew all of this, of course. I doubt it was a coincidence that she put those two at Bella's table.

I cannot fucking believe her.

"What's wrong?" she asks, looking back and forth between me and the chart.

I turn and glare at her. "What's wrong? What's _wrong_?" Incredulity colours my voice. I point at Bella's name. "_That's_ what's fucking wrong."

I think that was the first time I've ever sworn at my mother. By the shock I see on her face, she must've noticed it, too.

"Why aren't Bella and I sitting together?" I ask through clenched teeth.

Mom looks so taken aback by my anger. I don't understand why, though. It's just not possible that she thought I'd be completely fine with this. She must've realised that I'd have one or two objections.

Or maybe she's just surprised someone's actually calling her out. Mom doesn't get contradicted. Ever.

_Well, that's about to fucking change, isn't it?__  
_  
"Edward, honey, lower your voice, and I'll explai—"

"Explain? You'll 'explain'? Sure, go ahead, explain to me why _my girlfriend_ isn't sitting next to me!"

Her gaze turns hard and cold, like ice. She's done with being surprised.

"This has nothing to do with Isabella. You always sit at our table."

I stare at her, stunned and angry. "That's your excuse?" I think I'm developing a twitch in my face. "That I always sit there? And what, you didn't think that me bringing my girlfriend home to meet the family might be a reason to change shit around? I can't believe you!"

She sets her jaw defensively, straightening her back as she fixes me with a glare.

"You will calm down, right now. Don't raise your voice against me - what if someone hears you? I don't understand why you're making such a big deal about this. I had to put her there because it was the only available spot. I thought she might like to sit with people her own age."

"She _might_ want to sit with her boyfriend! You know, the only person she actually knows here." In a detached sort of way, I notice that my voice is getting very loud. "And you could've put her and me at a table together, just like Em and Rose are sitting together. Hell, just like _all _the god damn couples are sitting together! I don't have to sit with you and Dad anymore, because I actually brought someone with me, for once! Someone I assumed I'd be sitting next to!"

I take a step closer to her, when all I really want to do is pace around the room to work off some of my anger. Her posture falters for just a second; I know my reactions are taking her by surprise. She recovers quickly though, standing her ground.

My voice drops. I sound almost eerily calm, even though I feel nothing like it. Something is pulsing behind my eyes, pounding in my ears, racing down my nerves like screams. I guess this is what having a backbone feels like.

"Do you really think I don't know what you're doing? What you're trying to say? I know you don't like Bella. We _all_ know that! You're so fucking _obvious_, in everything you do. The way you _talk_ to her, the things you _say_, how you _look_ at her!"

I sneer, almost shaking with barely-restrained anger now. "You can't keep treating her like this. You're going to stop. She hasn't done a fucking thing to you. Do you have any idea how hurt she was last night?"

I don't pause to hear her answer – I don't even care if she has one. The fury over her actions just builds and builds, never stopping, never slowing. It races away from me, uncontrollable. I don't give a shit. I want it out of control. I _need it_ out of control. I want this fire in me to burn, to fuel me as I finally stand up to her. After twenty years of her selfish bullshit, I _need_ this.

"Do you have any idea how horrible it is to have to tell your girlfriend that your mother won't like her? I had to warn her about you. Warn her!" I yell. "She's been completely prepared for you to be this-… this- irrational woman, and you still managed to be even _worse _than what we were expecting!"

Mom stares at me. Her face is drained of blood. She looks so shocked, like she honestly thought she was getting away with all of this.

"And now you go and pull this bullshit, as if you haven't insulted her enough! What the hell kind of fucking ridiculous statement is this?" I say, pointing at the chart. "Did you really think we'd just agree, just say 'Okay!' and go sit at different tables? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, it's not like tha—"

"The hell it isn't! Just admit it, Mom. For once in your life, cut the passive-aggressive bullshit, and just say it! You don't like Bella. You haven't even given her a chance. For fuck's sake, you haven't even _tried_! You've just _decided_ that you don't fucking like her, and you have no idea who she even is!"

A flash of colour returns to her face, and something hard settles in her eyes.

"It's not that I don't like her." Her nostrils flare as she studies my face. "I just don't understand why you do."

My stomach drops out in disbelief.

"You could do _so_ much better, Edward. You deserve so much better. You're going to realise soon that she's just a distraction, I know that, but I had actually hoped you would've come to your senses already."

I literally feel dizzy and lightheaded – that's how furious I am. My voice becomes strained and low, sounding almost like a growl.

"You will _not_... speak about her like that. Don't you dare say that I can do better. What the hell do you know, anyway? You know _nothing_ about her, because you've just decided you're not going to."

"I don't have to know her to see that she's not what you need."

"She's exactly what I need! I love her. She means everything to me. I don't fucking want or need anyone else."

She rolls her eyes. Violent fury burns up my spine and now I _am_ shaking with anger. I'm trembling, I might even be seeing a little bit red. I have never been this furious in my entire life.

"Oh please!" she says, spitting the words out at me. "You don't _love her_, Edward. You just think you do! She's part of your little Seattle-adventure, where you've gone to 'find yourself'!"

Her voice is sharp like a knife. I know that tone. It's one she's always used when she wants to cut someone down, to keep them in their place. She's never directed it at me, but only because I've never stood up to her until now.

It's not working on me. It's only making me feel stronger. She's losing control over me. Her attempt to gain it back only feeds the fury.

"But very soon, you'll realise that you don't belong there, and that you definitely don't belong with _her__._ You'll see that _this _is where you should be" – she indicates the house around her – "and you'll come home. You'll find a nice girl who's just right for you, and you'll settle down and build a family and a future. Right now, you're only testing your limits. It's typical rebellion, but it will pass, Edward. And when it does, you'll understand where I'm coming from."

She finishes her little speech, staring hard into my eyes, telling me that arguing with her is pointless. That's where she's wrong. I am so terrifyingly livid that I honestly can't even speak. Insufficient noises escape my throat while my hands are longing to grab the stupid fucking seating chart and smash her entire office with it.

"How— _dare you_," I press out between clenched teeth. I must like completely insane, because Mom actually takes a tiny step back. She doesn't look that confident anymore. _Good__. __  
_  
"You fucking think you know me, and it's so blindingly obvious that you don't. I _hate it_ here. I can't stand this town or this house. You think I'd come back here? Are you fucking insane? Seattle isn't some _adventure__._" I spit the word back at her, full of resentment. "It's my life, and whether you like it or not, Bella is a part of that life. A fucking _important_ part of that life! So if you think I'm going to let you continue treating her like shit on the bottom of your shoe, you're sadly fucking mistaken."

I point a finger at her. "From now on, you're going to show Bella the respect she deserves. You're not going to make snide remarks, you're not going to imply anything negative about her, and you're sure as hell not going to insult her, because as much as you're my mother and I love you, if you make me choose between you, I'm going to choose her."

She gasps, and I realise that I should feel bad about the things tumbling from my mouth, but I'm just too angry. I'll deal with the guilt later. "You say all these things like you're looking out for me, like you're trying to do what's best for _me__._ But if you really cared about me, you'd be _happy_ I'd found Bella. You'd be happy we were in love and together. But you only really care about _yourself_, and the way others perceive _you_! And I guess having a son running around in Seattle wasn't part of your plan. You want me here, so I can work for dad and be another trophy for you to show off. And for some insane reason, you think Bella is stopping that from happening."

I shake my head, feeling my face twisted into a disgusted grimace. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

She gasps again, putting a hand against her heart. I've had enough of this now. I need to get away from her before I do something I'll actually regret.

"You'll fix this," I say through gritted teeth, pointing at the chart. "You'll put me and Bella together at a table, far away from _you_. If you don't, you can take your fancy party and all your precious guests and shove them up your ass. I'll be out of this house within seconds, and I'll be taking Bella with me. Your choice, mother."

I turn away from her, stalking toward the door. Wrenching it open, I don't pause to see what kind of effect my words had on her. I feel like ripping things to shreds. I want to smash furniture, I want to punch someone in the face. I want to scream and shout and get all of this anger out of my body, because my skin is crawling with it and I can't fucking stand it. It was fuelling me before, but it's too much now, too strong.

I need to get away from this house. I cannot fucking be here right now.

Mindlessly, I grab the keys to mine and Emmett's rental car. My only focus is to get away, until I find somewhere where I can be alone. Preferably, that somewhere will be a heavily wooded area with lots of rocks and stones that I can throw around.

And then I remember Bella. I stop. Turning my head towards the backyard, I can see her through the open doorway. She stands close to Emmett and with her arms wrapped around herself. She doesn't look entirely comfortable, like she's not sure how to act around him and Rose.

I can't just leave her here with a bunch of people who are still relative strangers.

I'd prefer to be alone right now, but if I bring her with me, she might be able to help me calm down. And to be honest, I need that more than anything right now.

I hurry down the hallway. She must hear me, or see me moving towards her, because she turns. A smile lights up her face, but only for a fraction of a second; it almost immediately turns into a worried and confused frown.

"Edwa—?"

"We have to leave," I say, interrupting her as I storm over to her. Emmett and Rose both turn to look at me, shocked by the dark tone of my voice.

"What's wrong?" Rose says, stepping towards me. I just shake my head, grabbing Bella by the arm.

"I talked to Mom. It-... it didn't go well." Directing myself only to Bella, my voice turns low and slightly desperate. "I need to get out of here."

She nods her head jerkily; maybe she sees something in my expression, because even though she still looks confused, she twines our fingers together and follows me when I pull.

"Wait, wait, hold up!" Emmett says, reaching out to stop me. "What's going on? What didn't go well?"

I take a deep breath, fighting to not snap at my brother. He doesn't deserve my anger.

"Mom fucked up the seating chart. Go ask her for the new version. We'll be back later."

With that, I grip Bella's hand tighter and turn to leave without another word.

She almost has to run to keep up with me as we make our way to the car. I've barely slammed my door shut before she turns to me, worried.

"I take it things didn't go well?"

I jam the keys into the ignition.

"Nope."

In my frustration, it takes a few turns before I can get the car running. Unfortunately, its unwillingness to cooperate only makes me feel more pissed off. My mood isn't helped by Mom appearing on the front step just as I start reversing down the driveway.

She says something to me, looking distressed. Thank god I can't hear her.

Bella looks back and forth between us, bracing herself when I swing the car around. The tires screech loudly as I speed down the road and away from the house.

Just putting some distance between myself and my mother is helping, but I'm still bunched tight, still absolutely furious and shaking with the need to work off this tension.

I take a sharp turn around a corner, making Bella inhale sharply in surprise. She settles herself a little tighter into her seat before turning to me.

"Edward? Edward, please slow down. You're sort of scaring me." She puts a hand on my arm, squeezing gently. Without thinking, I ease up on the gas.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, I just need to- I can't-... I had to get out." I spare her a quick glance; her eyes are concerned. She's worried about me. "I'm so sorry. I promise I'll explain."

She nods slowly, but doesn't take her eyes off my face.

We don't speak as I make random turns, just following the roads without any real intent. After about fifteen minutes, I find a small rest-stop on the side of the woods. There are only a couple of picnic tables here, and an information sign about the area – it's perfect.

I swing in, park the car, and turn off the engine. The immediate silence presses in on us. My body is still crawling with anger, tension, and frustration, picking at my muscles and telling me to act on my impulses.

My impulse just happens to be uprooting a large tree and swinging it around in the forest.

I get out of the car, trying to not slam the door too harshly as I walk away. I don't hear Bella following me. I place both hands at the back of my head, making my way over to one of the tables. The irrationally strong anger I feel burns in my stomach, constantly building up and up.

I wish I could calm down. I wish I could take a deep breath and let everything my mom said just slip down my back and off my mind. But I can't. The more I try not to think about it, the more I do. The more I think about it, the stronger the anger becomes. The stronger it becomes, the harder it gets trying not to think about it. It's a vicious circle.

Without really thinking, I kick the table in front of me, hard. It feels good. I kick it again, harder. That feels even better, even though it really kinda hurts.

_'__You could do so much better__... __she's not what you need__... __little Seattle-adventure__... __just a distraction__... '__  
_  
I grunt as I kick it again, forcing all of my frustration into the action. The satisfying thunk and the way the wood trembles brings out an almost carnal pleasure.

And pain. Lots of pain.

_Jesus fucking Christ, OW, shit, shit, shit!_

"Edward..."

I almost want to ignore her, but my foot is killing me. Besides, this is making me feel a little ridiculous, although slightly calmer.

It's surprising how efficient this is. I wonder if they do this sort of thing in anger management classes. Or they probably just learn how to breathe through their anger, count to ten and that sort of thing.

"Edward?"

With a sigh, I let my head fall back, but I don't turn around. I'm still angry. I need to breathe.

"What the hell was that?" Bella says, coming to stand in front of me. Her tone is much lighter and more amused than her words suggest.

"Just... working off some steam. You know."

"Yeah, sure. You just dragged me with you in the car without explaining anything, and now we're standing on the side of the road and you're kicking a picnic table. Makes perfect sense."

She lets out a small laugh and puts her hands on my arms. Her face softens, and she looks at me, eyes filled with concern.

"Can you please tell me what's going on? What happened? You were only gone for a few minutes."

I take a deep breath, feeling the last vestige of my anger slowly seeping out of me. Reaching for her hand, I pull her with me over to the table and once we're seated, I tell her everything.

By the time I've finished talking about the seating chart, Mom's belief that I could do better than Bella, and her insane delusion that moving to Seattle was some sort of rebellion on my part, Bella is the one pacing back and forth, anger clear in her every movement.

She's also crying. Over my mother... again.

With impatient swipes, she knuckles the tears off her cheek. She notices my expression as she sniffles, and she waves her hand at me.

"I'm crying because I'm mad. I cry over everything. Don't worry about it."

"I don't want you to be mad. Or crying."

"I know. Too bad your mom's such a terrible person." She pauses and looks at me with slightly wary eyes. "Sorry, was tha—"

"No. No, don't worry about it. I know what you mean. I'm not exactly feeling very kind towards her either, right now."

Bella stops pacing and comes to stand in front of me. She puts a hand on my cheek, rubbing her thumb along my skin. "I can't believe she said all those things to you. I can't believe she did that."

"Me neither," I say, sighing. I reach for her, settling my hands on her hips.

"Your mom sucks," she says, matter-of-factly. I laugh at her tone, nodding my head.

"Yeah, pretty much. I just... It's not just all the stuff she said about you. All that was bad enough, but then she just… she managed to make it even _worse_. She thinks those things about you because she's convinced I'm someone I'm not." I look up at Bella and see sympathy and understanding in her eyes. I suddenly feel so tired, and sad. I want her sympathy. "Isn't your mom supposed to know who you are?"

Her face twists, and she looks sad now, too. She puts both palms against my face, stepping closer. My hands slide down to the back of her thighs. "Yeah. Yeah, she is," she whispers, stroking the hair just above my ear.

"She thinks I'm rebelling, like a fucking teenager." I laugh again, but without humour this time. "I never thought that could actually insult me, but it does."

"Of course it does." She shakes her head slowly. "No one wants their reasons for doing things to be misunderstood like that. Especially not by their own mom."

I sigh and look down, focusing on a rock between her feet. "She thinks I'm coming back here. She honestly thinks I belong here, as if I want this kind of life. Boring social stuff, people expecting things from me, having the biggest house with the best garden..." I shake my head. "I was miserable when we moved here. I actually thought she might've noticed. Clearly her new social life was more important than me."

She strokes my hair slowly. "I'm sorry."

I squeeze her thighs softly. "I know." With a small groan, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her towards me. Her hands settle at the nape of my neck as I rest my head against her stomach.

"I'm sorry I just dragged you out here like this. I was just so... so..."

"Angry?"

"Furious. I needed to get away from there."

"I get it. You don't have to apologise, you know. I'm just glad you didn't leave me there."

"I almost did. Not on purpose, but... I was just very focused on getting the hell away from Mom; I almost forgot you were there."

"Thanks," she says jokingly, laughing.

"You know what I mean."

"I do." She strokes the back of my head slowly for a few moments. It feels good. "Did it help? Kicking the table?"

I sigh. "Yeah. It was pretty awesome."

"I almost thought you were going to start punching trees or something."

"That would've hurt."

"Probably. Good thing you didn't do it. What would your mom's guests think if you walked around with bloody knuckles?"

"That I was taking my rebellious ways with me from Seattle."

Her hands pause at the back of my neck, and she makes a sad sound. "I hate her for saying that to you. Stupid cow."

I burst out laughing, tightening my grip around her. I knew it was a good decision to bring her with me. I feel better already. "God, I love you. And I'm glad I didn't leave you at the house. I'd be much more pathetic sitting here without you."

"You're not pathetic."

"I am a little bit. I mean, I attacked a picnic table."

She's quiet for a few seconds, before humming. "Yeah, that's true."

I snort against her stomach, but we fall into an easy silence after that. Her fingers start combing through my hair again. A single car drives past us on the road, but other than that, we're completely alone.

After a few minutes, she speaks again. Her voice is soft and quiet.

"Do you want to leave early? Go back to Seattle, I mean. Maybe we can transfer our tickets or something."

God, that is so tempting. To just leave, just _not_ spend any more time with Mom, in that house, in this town. But then I think of Em, and Rose, and Dad – people I've actually been looking forward to seeing. We're leaving early Sunday morning anyway – tomorrow's not going to make such a huge difference. I can avoid Mom if I have to. And if I'm lucky, she might've actually listened to me. She might change. I could at least stay and see if my words had any effect.

"No. No, I don't want to leave. It's just one more day, really. I'll suck it up."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

"Okay."

I pause for a moment. "Unless you want to go? I think you've had a worse time here than I have."

She chuckles. "No, I'm fine. Emmett promised he'd teach me how to play basketball, 'like a man.' I can't miss that."

I nod. "If you're sure."

"I am," she says. I can hear the smile in her voice.

Her hands slide down along my shoulders and down my back. "How long do you want to stay out here?"

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"Like 11 AM or something."

"Oh. We've got plenty of time. The guests aren't coming for another six hours. So we have like four hours before we should head back to get ready, right?"

"Right. Hmm."

Her hands repeat their circuit, slower this time. It's almost suggestive. The muscles in my stomach tightening instinctively.

"You know... if you want to work off some more of that steam, I think I know something we could do."

Her voice is definitely suggestive.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Have you ever fooled around in the back of a car before?"

I raise my head to look at her. Her expression is deceptively innocent. My heart beats a little harder. I feel it mostly in my pants. "Not a rental car."

Her lips twitch. "What a coincidence. Neither have I."

"Interesting."

"Mm, very."

We stare at each other for a few seconds.

"I think I saw a dirt road leading into the forest about half a mile back," she says.

I slap her ass and get to my feet. "Let's go."


End file.
